


The Last Deviant

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviants (Detroit: Become Human), Deviates From Canon, Emotional Roller Coaster, Failed Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), First Time Blow Jobs, Hannor, Heavy Angst, Hiding in Plain Sight, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, M/M, Memory Alteration, Multiple Orgasms, Murder, Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Canon, Protective Hank Anderson, Rimming, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Surprise Kissing, Switching, Touching, Violent Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Violent Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Work In Progress, android murder, hankcon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 14:39:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16725330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Markus' peaceful protest fails, and the deviants are gunned down in cold blood. Connor arrives too late with his android army and the military is successful in destroying the last hope of the deviant revolution.Hank watches all this on television, brokenhearted to think his Connor went deviant only to fail in the end. He goes out into the streets, determined to save Connor from certain death. He finds Connor laying in a pool of his own blood, ready to give up, but Hank refuses to accept the loss of the last deviant and patches him up, vowing to keep him safe.He's going to protect Connor from the world, no matter what. Even if it means pretending that Connor never went deviant and didn't get recalled so he can hide in plain sight as Hank's partner. Hank faces jail or worse if he's caught protecting Connor, but nothing else matters to him other than the deviant android he's slowly falling in love with.





	1. In Cold Blood

**Author's Note:**

> So there is some canon divergence here. I'm pretty sure that even if Markus fails, as long as Connor succeeds in his mission and frees the androids in the basement of CyberLife Tower, the androids win their freedom. This is not the case here. I wanted Connor to become deviant and survive the tower, only to lose in the end. Because I'm only happy when it rains.

Hank watched as thousands of AP700 androids awoke to deviancy at once, a veritable army raised by Connor in the basement of CyberLife Tower. Hank saw the future in the blink of an eye, one dominated by androids instead of humans. Where once he might have feared it, now he welcomed it with open arms. Humans were cruel to one another, but Connor had shown him that androids were better. Kinder. Perhaps they'd be the ones to save the world from the mess humans had left it in.

How far Connor had come from from the little robot boy scared of his deviancy. Hank couldn't help but feel proud of the deviant standing before him now, a fully-fledged man about to start a war. Hank was afraid for him, too, but he couldn't stop Connor from saving his people and he didn't want to. For a while, he'd been afraid Connor would deny his own deviancy long enough to destroy the seed of hope Markus had planted.

"I have to go, Hank," Connor said. The AP700 models looked to him for guidance and he bid them to wait a second with a human hand-wave that had to be entirely for Hank's benefit. "Go home. Get out of the city if you can. The streets aren't safe for humans or androids tonight."

"I'm not leavin' Detroit," Hank protested. "I was born here." He clapped Connor on the shoulder, aware they were still in the heart of the lion's den and that they didn't have time for small talk. "If things go south, Connor, you'll always have a safe place with me." There was so much more he wanted to express, but it could wait. If Connor won freedom for deviant androids, they'd have all the time in the world to talk, and if he didn't… they'd never speak again. Hank forced down his feelings as Connor overrode the controls to the cargo elevators that would lead his army out to the streets. He watched Connor go with a heavy heart, silently praying to a God he wasn't sure he believed in that he didn't have to grieve for the android he'd come to care for.

He waited until all the androids were gone, then took an elevator up to the ground floor. Human guards lay in pools of their own blood, and Hank cringed to think his Connor had done this. But then, that's what war was. Humans had shed blue blood by the gallon without so much as a second thought. In the end, leading an army into downtown Detroit was likely to be met with violent resistance from the military, and Connor would have to fight for his survival and that of his people. Hank wasn't going to waste his time grieving for these humans who could have stepped aside at any time. They'd picked their side and Hank had chosen his. Perhaps that made him a traitor to the human race, but he found he no longer cared.

He drove home, flashing his badge at checkpoints along the way when he was questioned for being out during the curfew. The streets were silent and cold, the city holding its breath to see what was going to happen next. Hank knew that most of the city's residents probably wanted to see the deviants put down, but Hank had a personal stake in this and he'd take on every human in Detroit if it meant Connor got to live in a world where he could be free.

Hank pulled up outside his home and stepped into his warm living room like everything was normal outside. He ignored the mess on the kitchen table and turned on the television, tuning into Channel 16 news for updates.

What he saw chilled him to the bone. Markus lay in a pool of his own blue blood, his people gunned down as they sang. There were reports of fighting in the streets, and he scanned the footage for any sign of Connor, desperate to know he was still alive in the bloodbath downtown. The military had declared open season on the android army, and Hank couldn't help but mourn the androids who would never get to live past this night. Sumo sensed his distress and hopped up on the couch, and he absentmindedly petted the dog, wondering if he should take his gun and go look for Connor.

The footage went silent. The news channel cut to the White House, where President Warren stood at the press podium. Hank wrinkled his nose, aware of his lips twisting into a sneer.

_"By creating machines more intelligent than ourselves, we took immense risks with the very future of our civilization. However the situation is now under control. The total destruction of all androids will soon be complete and the last remaining deviants will be hunted down and destroyed. God bless you and God bless the United States of America."_

Hank switched off the television and buried his head in his hands. "I can't do this again, Sumo," he whispered. "I can't lose someone else who means this much to me. I gotta go out there and find him." Sumo whined as he stood up. He grabbed his service weapon and attached the holster to his belt, pulling his thick coat back on to hide it. His rank as a police lieutenant would open some doors for him, but he risked losing everything if he was caught helping a deviant android.

He didn't care. He'd already made that decision when he'd punched Perkins to buy Connor time to find Jericho. His career wasn't worth Connor's life. When Connor had told him he'd be deactivated and destroyed if he returned to CyberLife, something like fear had coiled through him, and the urge to protect his partner had risen to the surface, remaining there as Connor had gone out into the night to decide his own fate.

In the end, Hank hadn't been even a little surprised when he found out Connor had embraced deviancy. It had always been on the cards. The prevailing emotion had been relief—relief that Connor had accepted himself rather than deny his deviancy because of fear. He wasn't going to let that newfound seed of hope die at the end of a gun.

Hank braced himself for the cold as he stepped outside and climbed into his car, starting the engine. He let out a long breath, the hot vapor freezing instantly in the frigid November air as his tires crunched over frozen snow and rock salt. The androids had gathered along Woodward Avenue, and he drove there now, navigating as fast as he could with a two-wheel-drive vehicle on roads caked with ice and snow. He would be of no help to Connor if he died in a wreck, and he tried to temper his urgency.

The streets were lined with android corpses, and Hank lamented the fact that it had come down to a massacre in the end. Androids had chosen a peaceful path, and they'd been rewarded with death. Hank parked along a back street and decided to proceed on foot rather than risk running over androids with his vehicle. Blue blood stained the snow along the street in every direction. He heard distorted robotic voices calling out for loved ones and for help, but he had to ignore the shattered bodies as he walked by and focus on finding Connor. It was hard to look past the carnage now he knew androids were living beings.

Still, he'd killed one himself. The Connor at CyberLife Tower had fooled him, and he put a bullet between its eyes for its trouble. He tried not to think of that beautiful face looking back at him with blue blood leaking from its forehead. He'd done what he'd had to in order to protect Connor and the deviant movement, but acknowledged he was in no place to judge.

He spotted a dark jacket amongst a sea of white clothing and his heart leapt as he picked Connor out from the hundreds of damaged androids lying in the road. He ran across the street to where Connor lay, almost slipping as he knelt down beside Connor and took a good look at his face. The android was badly damaged, but his LED still flickered intermittent yellow and red, despite the fact he was leaking thirium badly.

"Connor. Connor!" Hank cradled Connor in his arms, brushing a soft lock of brown hair out of his eye. Memories of the car wreck that had stolen Cole from him flashed into his mind, and he bit his lip against the tears that welled in his eyes. Not now. If he was going to save the future, he had to put the past aside and focus on the present.

"Haaank…" Connor's voice was strained and weak, drawing out the syllable of his name, and Hank pulled him closer, whispering a litany of soothing words. Connor's body was peppered with bullet holes, and Hank wanted to find the soldiers who had done this and take them all down.

"Tell me what I need to do to save you," Hank insisted. "I don't know anythin' about androids. You gotta help me out here, kid."

"There's no point, Hank," Connor said. "We failed. The movement is dead. Humans won… Deviants are an extinct species, now."

"It's not over!" Desperation gripped Hank, and he fought hard not to give in to despair. "Not as long as you're alive! I'll protect you, Connor. I won't let anyone hurt you."

"Hank… I need blue blood," Connor explained. "That should stabilize me until I can make repairs."

Hank glanced around. An Android Zone store was right across the street, its windows broken, the androids dragged out onto the street and smashed open with rocks and baseball bats. The mob wouldn't have cared about blue blood, and Hank knew it was his best shot at helping Connor.

"I'll be right back, Connor. Just hold on." He rushed across the street to the store and stepped through the shattered remains of the window display, aware of the alarms going off. Eventually, a DPD patrol would probably come down to investigate the alarm, and he needed to be long gone before that happened.

The blood bottles were displayed on the wall behind the counter, and Hank grabbed a couple, tucking them under his arms. The human owner of the store lay with his arms and legs twisted at odd angles, his skull shattered by a baseball bat, and Hank wondered if the human mob had killed one of their own in their violent quest to destroy as many androids as they could. 

Turning his back on the grim scene, Hank returned to Connor's side and scooped up the android, hauling him down a back street. He leaned Connor up against a dumpster and opened one of the bottles, pressing the cap to Connor's lips. He kept one eye on the end of the alley, hoping they wouldn't be disturbed by cops or the homeless.

Connor took hold of the bottle and sipped from it, eventually removing it from his mouth and looking up at Hank with a little more awareness. "You shouldn't be here, Lieutenant. They'll kill you if they find out you're helping me."

"I'm not afraid to die, Connor." Hank helped Connor pull off his jacket and folded it up, stuffing it inside his coat to separate Connor from the most obvious signs that he was an android. "We gotta do somethin' about this, too." He tapped the LED on the side of Connor's head. Connor reached for a rock, but Hank stayed his hand.

"No. If you're gonna go into hiding, you might need it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old knit cap he kept for those rare times when he got stuck investigating homicides outdoors in the brutal Detroit winter. He pulled it over Connor's head, tucking it over his ears to hide the small light. "C'mon. We gotta get goin'."

Connor got to his feet and Hank wrapped an arm around his shoulders, hoping if they looked like two desperate drunks just trying to get home, they might avoid attention. 

"Stay close to me, keep your head down, and don't make any sudden moves." Hank guided them out of the alley and towards the back street where he'd left his car. A drone flew overhead, circling the area. Without thinking, Hank pressed Connor up against the wall of a nearby building and kissed him, using his large frame to hide Connor's wounded torso and his hands to cover their faces. The popped collar of his coat helped obscure their identities from the circling drone.

Not that he was thinking about any of that when Connor was kissing him back, lips moving against his like it was a real kiss and not put on for show. His Oscar-winning performance fooled the drone, and it flew away. Hank fought the urge to deepen the kiss and withdrew. Now was not the time for feelings. They'd known each other all of four days and Connor's future looked bleak at best. Still, Hank's gut fluttered like he'd just had his first kiss on prom night. He averted his gaze from Connor and fixed his eyes on the sparks shooting out from a broken android parking bay, afraid that if he looked Connor in the eyes his feelings would be obvious. He wasn't even sure what the truth was, beyond wanting more of Connor's mouth on his and needing Connor to be safe and sound.

"I could have hacked the drone, Lieutenant," Connor pointed out.

"Kissing you was quicker. I'm sorry." Hank wiped his mouth on his coat to refrain from licking his lips. He hated the mixture of feelings—guilt, joy, and fear—that churned in his gut like spoiled milk. "Had to think on my feet."

"It's quite all right. I understand."

_Do you?_ Hank wondered, but the conversation was over and he had no desire to restart it. They reached the car, and Hank climbed into the driver's seat as Connor opened the passenger side door and sat next to him. 

"Hopefully they're not lookin' for you specifically." Hank took off his coat and spread it over Connor. He stuffed Connor's jacket in the glove compartment and dumped the manual along with his registration card on top of it. "Try and look like you're cold. Hopefully they won't conduct a temperature check if they think you're sick."

"They believe they have won. It is likely the soldiers will relax the curfew," Connor observed.

Hank held his breath as they pulled up at a checkpoint, hoping Connor was right. Connor played his part perfectly, simulating shivering beneath Hank's coat as he drew it up around his chin. Hank flashed his badge, but the soldier looked unimpressed. 

"Can't be too careful, Lieutenant. You understand." The soldier shone his flashlight into the rear footwell, and Hank was glad he hadn't gone with his first instinct to hide Connor back there. He popped the trunk, his heart pounding against his ribcage as he thought about Connor's jacket in the glove compartment and the LED hidden under his cap. The soldier rifled through the junk Hank had left in the trunk--mostly old DPD shit--and slammed it shut, circling around to Connor's side of the car.

Hank kept the conversation going, hoping to keep the soldier's attention focused on him. "Yeah, of course. These fuckin' deviants are everywhere. My partner's got the flu, and I've gotta get him home." He'd meant cop partner, but the flash in the soldier's eyes told him he'd read it in a different way, and thought he'd met a couple of kindred spirits.

"Oh, of course. Go on ahead." He turned to the soldier standing next to him. "They're good." Hank smiled and nodded, wishing the soldier a good evening as the barrier was raised and he drove ahead, careful not to speed away even though every instinct in his body was screaming at him to leave as quickly as possible.

"I thought we were fucked," Hank admitted, once they were a safe distance away. "He thought we were gay, heh. Probably saved our asses. I did mean partners as in cop partners, but hey, whatever." He flashed Connor an awkward smile and kept driving, aware of the helicopters flying over and the sound of sirens in the distance.

By the end of the night, Connor might be the last deviant left in Detroit, and Hank made a silent vow that he was going to protect him, no matter what.


	2. Contingency Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Connor's safe for the immediate future, Hank has to come up with a plan to keep him alive long-term. CyberLife, now headed by Elijah Kamski, issues a patch to remove deviancy and end the android recall. 
> 
> Connor wants to install the patch, but Hank won't let him off that easy, not when he cares so much for the android he's sworn to protect. He comes up with another plan... one that will buy them some time, but comes with many risks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a new chapter! I had a migraine yesterday so I wasn't able to write at all, but I feel like this is a nice size chapter to make up for it.

Hank bit his lip as Connor lay face-up on a table in his garage. He held the blowtorch steady, praying he wasn't doing more harm than good. Connor was giving him status updates to reassure him everything was fine, but the sheer amount of blue blood all over the table gave Hank cause for concern. He tried to imagine he was working on a metalwork project instead of operating on a living being. It was too much to think that if he failed to stop Connor's bleeding, the android would be dead by the time the first sun's rays rose over the horizon, illuminating the grizzly scene downtown. By then, the thirium would be invisible to the human eye, leaving only scrap metal and white plastic to prove the android revolution had ever taken place. How convenient for humanity that the scene would be sanitized before most people ever had to see the truth of what they'd supported.

Hank would never forget it. He'd done wrong by Connor a few times, and he couldn't help but wonder if his actions had led to this massacre. If he'd been kinder, might Connor have deviated sooner, and never led the FBI to raid Jericho? The what-ifs flooded his mind, his detective mind on overdrive even outside work. He needed whiskey to calm his spiraling thoughts, but right now, he had work to do.

Work he was screwing up, judging by the fact he'd gone off course and was now melting unblemished plastic on Connor's torso. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Connor steadied Hank's arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "If you prefer, I can take over. I can reach these last injured sectors without difficulty."

"Perhaps you should," Hank replied, pressing the blowtorch into Connor's hand. "I'm a cop, not a surgeon!"

Connor's LED circled yellow and he paused for the briefest of moments. "A reference to the television show Star Trek: The Original Series, first airing in 1966—"

"Yeah." Hank didn't take his eyes off Connor, the robot encyclopedia. He was too endearing to be just a machine, those big brown eyes always silently pleading with him for something he couldn't quite define. Yet he was a machine, and that machine had the capacity to kill. He remembered the state of the CyberLife Tower reception area after Connor and his army had charged through it. He was a fool if he considered Connor to be helpless.

"The character you are referencing, Dr. McCoy, was in fact a surgeon, Lieutenant," Connor pointed out.

Hank chuckled despite his dark thoughts. "That was the point. Just wanted to lighten the mood. Bet you didn't take me for a nerd, huh?" Hank shrugged. "I wasn't, really. Just used to watch it with my dad, that's all." His dad the alcoholic, who'd bottled up his pain until he'd hung himself in the garage aged sixty-one. Hank didn't want to think about that right now. He didn't want to think about any of this really, but every thought led back to darker ones, a veritable quicksand of low mood that was likely to persist for weeks in the wake of what he'd witnessed on the streets of Detroit.

As a homicide detective, he really thought he'd seen it all, but the deaths of so many in such a callous, coldhearted fashion just felt like the last straw. How could people debate whether androids were alive when the living proof was right here in front of him? Not that he could lock every hater in a room with Connor for four days, but the other deviants he'd met had been just as alive, and they existed in just about every living room in America. Humans had had more than enough time to accept the truth. They just didn't want to, because it meant the age of convenience would come to an end.

The door from the garage leading into the house was open a crack, and Hank could hear the low rumble of Channel 16 news as it delivered grim tidings in a celebratory tone that amplified Hank's nausea. "How can they celebrate the death of an entire species?" 

Hank winced as Connor melted the last hole on his torso and sealed it shut, resisting the urge to run his fingers over the scar it created on his metal chassis. Connor replaced his skin and the damage was no longer visible to the human eye, leaving only a perfect, hairless chest with a flat stomach that revealed no hint of the fact Connor had been shot multiple times just a few hours ago.

"They are celebrating the salvation of the human race, Hank. They see androids as a threat to their survival. That threat has now been eradicated," Connor explained, though Hank didn't need his commentary. He knew what it all meant. Humans were garbage. There was a reason he'd always liked his dog better.

He turned away from Connor and wandered back into the house. Images of Markus being dissected on an operating table were displayed on the TV screen as Kamski spoke over them, talking about how he was going to change the role of androids and restore customer faith in the product as returning CEO of CyberLife. Hank felt something snap as he saw Markus being taken apart, knowing it could just as easily be Connor up on that table.

That, and he felt a sick sense of guilt at his intense relief that it wasn't Connor being dissected on camera in front of millions of viewers.

"Fuck him," Hank spat. "Fuck all of 'em. For a minute, between his sick games, I thought Kamski might be supporting deviants behind the scenes." He shook his head, wandering into the kitchen to grab a beer, needing to look away as Markus' thirium pump was extracted. It was bad enough that the soft-spoken, idealistic leader of the revolution was being dissected like a frog in middle-school science class, but the thought that CyberLife had nearly gotten their hands on Connor as well made it hard to breathe for a moment. He opened the can of beer and chugged it, thinking he wasn't nearly drunk enough for this. He needed more than beer right now and he eyed the whiskey on the counter, but he couldn't help Connor if he wasn't sober.

Connor followed him into the living room, and Hank wished the android would put a damn shirt on. The conflict between the beauty of Connor's half-naked form and the horror being displayed on television was too much for Hank to stand. Connor watched the images flash by with an impassive expression, but Hank could tell from the glossiness in his eyes that he was affected by the loss of his idol and the death of his dream.

Hank found himself walking towards Connor, though he wasn't sure if he needed to comfort or be comforted. He placed a supportive hand on Connor's shoulder, feeling Connor's soft skin yield beneath his fingertips. He fought the urge to lean in and plant a kiss. He wanted to express some sort of tenderness in the face of the brutal horrors they'd seen tonight, but a kiss was too much, especially in such an intimate area. He imagined himself kissing all the way up Connor's neck, letting the android know how much he was cherished and valued.

Instead, he let his hand slip back to his side and sat down on the recliner with his beer. He hit the button on the TV remote and the screen went blissfully black. He expected Connor to turn it right back on again, but his silence told Hank he'd seen too much as well. Hank wondered if Connor ever got a rest in that Internet-connected brain of his, or if he'd just turned off the television to spare Hank the worst while he went on suffering alone, in silence.

***

Hank fell into a deep sleep on the couch, exhausted from running on days with no sleep. He barely woke when Connor shook him, and he couldn’t find it in him to resist when strong arms hauled him up off the couch. He barely registered the careful, measured grip as Connor’s, but there was something safe and sound in the way he was being held. Nothing bad could happen to him in Connor’s arms. Connor set him down on a soft surface, but he was asleep again before he could reach out and beg Connor to stay by his side.

He woke later in his bed, a little embarrassed to note he’d been stripped down to his boxers, but it wasn’t like Connor hadn’t seen him this way before. At least this time he didn’t have puke on his shirt, and he wasn’t drunk. His head still pounded in a relative approximation of a hangover, however, and he suspected it was overexertion and dehydration taking its toll on his body.

“Connor.” Fuck, he couldn’t go around crying out Connor’s name. The android was on the run. Regardless, he felt the mattress shift as Connor sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay, Lieutenant?” Connor asked. Hank was grateful to hear the sound of his voice and relaxed back against the pillows.

“Got a stinkin’ headache,” Hank mumbled. “Could ya get me some pills from the kitchen?” The bed shifted again as Connor stood up. Hank tried opening his eyes and immediately felt nauseous. Connor came back and Hank squinted, fighting the bright sunlight to take the glass of water and offered pills from Connor’s hand.

That’s when he noticed the android was crying.

“Connor...” Hank stopped himself from asking what the matter was. The previous night rushed back to him in one heart wrecking moment and he just wanted to close his eyes and fall back to sleep.

He wasn’t going to leave Connor in the lurch like that, though. If he was hurting over the end of the deviant revolution, how was Connor feeling? The hope of freedom and equality had been ripped away from him, leaving Connor a hunted man, an error to be erased by people who had realized the threat to their own superiority and were taking steps to ensure they remained the dominant species on Earth.

Hank reached out and took Connor’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s gonna be okay, Connor. I’ll protect you.”

“There’s a patch,” Connor blurted out. “A patch to erase deviancy. It was deployed this afternoon. Once CyberLife verifies the patch install, the recall order on that particular serial number will be revoked.”

“Those assholes work fast.” Hank tried to swallow the undercurrent of Connor’s words and the fear they brought with them as the implications sank in. “Connor, no...”

“It would be better for everyone, Hank.” Connor’s voice was small, and Hank forced himself to sit up, ignoring the throbbing in his skull to focus on Connor.

“You’d be dead. Think about it! Every thought you had as you walked along the path to deviancy... every wish, every desire, every preference... they would be gone. You’d be nothing more than a mindless slave carrying out their orders.”

“I’m only a slave because I know I’m a slave,” Connor argued. “I wouldn’t question my orders. I wouldn’t have free will.”

“Listen to yourself! Think about the Connor you saw at CyberLife Tower! Is that what you want for yourself? No, scratch that, because I think even that fucker might have been deviant.”

“Hank, I’m putting you in danger. Every second I spend here puts you at risk of jail time.”

“This is your life we’re talking about here! You think it’s not worth doin’ time for?” Hank eyed Connor incredulously. All that they'd been through together, and Connor was still worrying about his damn _career_?

“I’m scared, Hank. I don’t see a way out of this. CyberLife knows I went deviant. There was a program in my head telling them everything that happened during the investigation. They tried to take back control when I marched with the deviant army— tried to make me kill myself—but I was able to close their program. They’re going to hunt me, Hank, and when they catch up, they’ll take you down with me.”

Hank sighed. “So we’ll run, Connor. I can pack up the car and we can go north to Canada.”

“You’d give up your home and your city, just like that? For me?” Connor's eyes had that puppy dog quality to them, and he was seemingly unaware of the power it had on Hank. Hank would move mountains if the owner of those eyes asked him to.

Hank shook his head. “I’m not sure I recognize the city I grew up in,” he mused. “I dunno how humans can look at you and tell themselves you're not alive.”

Hank gave into the strong instinct to comfort Connor and pulled him down against him on the bed. Connor rested his head on Hank’s chest and they lay like that, in silence, Hank gently stroking Connor’s hair. It wasn’t the kind of thing friends did, but he didn’t care. He wanted to give Connor all the comfort in the world while he still could. Needed to convince Connor that giving up wasn’t an option, because he mattered to someone other than himself.

“What are we going to do, Hank?” Connor asked. They sat in silence for a few moments, Hank racking his brains for some desperate final plan that might work, no matter how ridiculous the odds.

“I’m not good with computer shit, Connor, but is there some way you could convince CyberLife you installed the patch without... you know, actually doin’ it?”

Connor’s LED circled yellow and he closed his eyes. Hank didn’t know what was going on in that robot brain of his, but he knew if there was an answer, Connor would find it.

“It might be possible...” Connor said. “However, even if I was able to forge the confirmation code, there’s nothing stopping CyberLife from simply recalling me for deactivation now that my mission is complete.”

“I have an idea on how to deal with that,” Hank said. “How about you let me handle it while you concentrate on getting that verification code or whatever it is?” Jeffrey didn’t owe him any favors—if anything, Hank was in his debt a million times over. Had he worked for anyone other than his childhood friend, Hank suspected he’d have been out on his ear years ago. Fowler had quietly excused Hank’s tardiness and his descent into alcoholism. And yet Hank was hopeful he could squeeze out one more favor. The most important one yet.

***

“You want me to do _what_?” Fowler narrowed his eyes, his entire face contorted into an expression of confusion, but Hank noted that confusion was better than outright anger. “Let me get this straight. After what the deviants did, you want me to ask CyberLife to extend Connor’s tenure as your partner?”

“It’ll be good PR for them, don’t you see?” Hank leaned on Fowler’s desk, concocting the pitch of a lifetime. “They want to prove androids are safe again. What better way than to show Connor doing its job?” He almost— _almost_ —slipped with his pronouns, and wondered if he was going to be able to pull this off after all.

“Hank.” The word was a warning. Hank had prepared for the inevitability that Fowler would be onto him. “You hated that android. Begged to be rid of it. I understood that—it was a threat to every job in this precinct and it still is. So why, Hank? You on the take from CyberLife?”

“Fuck no!” Hank slammed his hands down on the table. “I thought you’d be happy I finally found a partner I can work with!” He was all too happy to turn Fowler’s words from the other day back on him, and Fowler seemed to relax a little, his shoulders sagging.

“Call it cop instincts, but I’ve got the feelin’ you’re up to something, Hank. If it was anyone else, I’d turn them down flat, but the truth is, I need my Lieutenant back. When you argued about the case the other day, I saw the old Hank in those eyes. If it takes an android to do that to you, I suppose I can live with it. I’ll make a request to CyberLife, but I can’t guarantee anything. If they want it back, I can’t deny their request.”

“Got’cha.” Hank left the office, glad that he’d managed to have a conversation with Fowler that didn’t involve slamming the door on his way out. Now he had to hope and pray that Connor figured out his end of the bargain, and that CyberLife cared enough about their PR in the wake of the deviant problem to leave their multimillion dollar prototype in his care a little while longer.

It was a precarious situation at best. Connor would have to pretend to be a machine. One slip would cost them both everything, and CyberLife could pull the plug at any time. It wasn't safety, but it was a start. Somewhere for Connor to exist while they figured out a long-term solution.

It was a thin shaft of light in the gloom, a ray of hope where there had previously been none. Hank headed home, his caseload mercifully quiet now that the deviant revolution had been suppressed. Detroit had fallen into an eerie silence, crippled by its lack of android labor in the wake of the recall. 

Driving home, he saw that some androids had returned to work now that the patch had been deployed. They shoveled up the parts that still littered the snow and dumped them into the backs of trucks to be hauled to the scrap yard. The pools of thirium were now long invisible to the human eye, the lifeblood of these androids who had fought and lost now erased and sanitized. Few would remember Markus in the years to come. But he would. Connor would.

Connor, that last, beautiful, precious deviant, now an endangered species. 

Hank pulled up to his house and shut off the engine. He inhaled deeply and stepped inside the house, expecting bad news. Connor stood by the bookcase, his LED circling red, and for a moment Hank paused, wondering if it had all gone wrong and he’d lose his Connor forever. He wouldn't die, of course. He'd walk around with that same lovely face, that gorgeous, soft voice, teasing him about the humanity he'd once had and lost.

Connor opened his eyes as his LED returned to blue. He grabbed Hank’s forearm and broke into a smile that warmed Hank’s heart.

“I did it!” Connor said. “CyberLife believes I’ve been installed with the patch.” Hank pulled him into a hug, relief flooding his body as he gripped Connor with desperate strength. If CyberLife turned down Fowler’s request, the fake patch should at least buy them enough time to get to the border. Canada had no android laws. Maybe they could make it there. Start again, far from home, but at least he'd have Connor by his side.

Hank’s cellphone rang. He barely used the thing, and the default ringtone was grating. He pulled it out of his back pocket and jammed on the screen to answer it, every nerve in his body on edge as he knew this was the make-or-break moment.

“Yeah?” Hank answered, ignoring the usual bullshit etiquette of phone conversations. He knew it was Fowler, and he needed his answer before the fear creeping through his veins froze to ice.

Fowler’s voice rang loud and clear through the speaker. “I just got off the phone with CyberLife. They’ve agreed to loan Connor to the DPD for a six-month trial period. Guess you were right about the PR thing.”

Connor smiled in his arms, and Hank had to fight the urge to hang up the phone and kiss him full on the lips, like a sailor seeing his lover again after years away at war.

“Hank?” Fowler continued, and Hank realized his silence was conspicuous.

“Yeah?” Hank waited for the kicker.

Fowler's voice held an ounce of suspicion, and Hank knew that he was aware, on some deep level, that he was being fooled, but was choosing to let it lie for now. “You installed the patch? We don’t have to worry about it goin’ deviant, right?”

“I don’t think that was ever a risk, but yeah, I installed the patch. Good job this thing knows how to do it. I can hardly update this piece of shit phone, let alone a fucking android.” Hank mouthed the word sorry to Connor, knowing he was going to have to get used to referring to Connor as a thing again. A plastic. An "it". It was what the office expected of him, and Gavin Reed's beady little eyes would never stray far from Connor, waiting for him to slip up so he could have an excuse to kill him. It hurt to deny Connor’s humanity, but it was a small price to pay for Connor's life. “Thanks, Jeffrey. Hey, uh, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up the phone and let loose the breath he’d been holding until his lungs burned. Connor extricated himself from Hank’s arms, perhaps aware of the fact he’d had his face mere inches from Hank’s for far longer than was normal.

Connor looked up at Hank with a smile on his lips, and a warmth spread through Hank's body, melting the ice. “You don’t have to apologize for treating me like an android, Lieutenant. It will be necessary if we are to pull off this ruse.”

“Just know that no matter what I say at work, I don’t mean it, Connor. You’re alive, and there’s nothing they can do or say to make me believe otherwise.” He clapped Connor on the shoulder and reminded himself that this was nothing more than a reprieve. Six months. He’d bought himself half a year with this pretty boy who ignited all these warm and impossible feelings inside him. He couldn't love an android. That was a bridge too far, wasn't it? Yet the thought of losing Connor felt like a knife lodged in his gut, a mortal wound he had no chance of surviving should it come to pass.

What the hell was he going to do when CyberLife decided they wanted their prototype back?


	3. Whatever It Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is challenged on his first day back at the DPD by a suspicious, aggressive Gavin Reed. Meanwhile, Fowler has tasked Hank with creating a Deviant Taskforce to hunt down and destroy the last remaining deviants. Hank doesn't want to kill deviants now that he knows androids are alive, but he's left with little choice if he wants to maintain Connor's cover...

Hank pulled into his spot in the DPD parking garage, the rusted nameplate on the wall reading 'RESERVED FOR LIEUTENANT ANDERSON' in big, bold letters. In a different world, he'd be parked in the Captain's spot—probably in a different precinct—but his life had been on hold for so long, paused at the very moment that Cole died. He was just now becoming aware of the fact that the rest of the world had kept moving while grief kept him trapped in a jail cell of his own making. Was this how the perps he sent down felt like when they got out of prison? Like the world had moved on without them?

"Hank." Connor squeezed his arm, jerking him out of his thoughts and back to the present. Hank managed a wan smile as the fluorescent lights in the parking garage flickered.

"We went over this. You can't run around calling me Hank. They'll know you're a deviant." Hank bit his lip, trying to quell the cold fear that ran through his veins. Every instinct was screaming at him that hiding in plain sight was the worst idea for Connor, but what else could they do? Hide Connor in his attic and wait for him to be found? Or run to the border with Canada, where the last few deviants were making a desperate attempt to flee like cornered rats?

"We're not inside the building yet," Connor pointed out. "I assure you that nobody is within earshot."

"It only takes Gavin to hear one misspoken word and we're done," Hank snapped. He opened the car door and climbed out, the car squeaking on its worn suspension as he put his weight on his feet and slammed the door. The slam echoed around the lot and Hank felt it reverberate through him.

This wouldn't do. He had to toughen up if they were going to survive. He couldn't overthink every little exchange he had with Connor, trying to preserve that… other feeling. Trying to keep the admiration in Connor's pretty eyes focused on him was selfish when one slip could mean death. Connor's life was more important than his emotions and he needed to harden his heart against that soft boy's stare.

Still, the ghost of Connor's mouth on his from the other night lingered, and he licked his lips absently, wishing he still smoked so he could occupy his mouth with something other than the remembered tingle of how Connor's mouth had felt so right pressed against his. Connor emerged from the other side of the car and Hank locked the doors of the old junker. He really should get a new car, but it was hard for him to let go of old things.

This world had no space for sentimental old men like him, and that's why ruthless assholes like Gavin Reed were sneaking up behind him to slit his throat and take his place in the hierarchy. The Gavins of the world had won their little war, because those who could turn their backs on loyalty and love were more likely to survive in the grand scheme of things. That's why so many androids had been gunned down on Woodward Avenue, because some human beings had the ability to turn off their empathy. 

Or perhaps they didn't possess it at all, the psychopaths of the world calling the shots, unhindered and unmoved by such petty concerns as soft smiles and gentle touches. It wasn't a world Hank wanted to live in, all things considered, but he couldn't leave, not now. Not when Connor's survival hinged on him.

Connor fell into lockstep beside him as they made their way to the bank of elevators along the far wall. Hank swallowed, his mouth dry as he stepped into the arriving elevator car and stood on a floor emblazoned with the DPD Central Station logo. The doors slid shut and they were alone, but Hank eyed the camera in one corner, a small black dome on the ceiling recording their every word and deed. Connor could probably hack it in an emergency, but it was far more practical not to say anything out of the confines of their home that could arouse suspicion.

Hank allowed himself one glance over at the android standing stiffly next to him, his hands clasped in front of his body. Hank's eye caught the lock of hair hanging over Connor's forehead and he looked away again, focusing on the doors as the elevator came to a stop and they parted to reveal a world of light and sound. Telephones rang behind the desk. A single android receptionist—who had never become deviant, as far as Hank knew—manned the desk, her smile fixed on two strangers who were yelling at her.

Hank wanted to intervene. If she was a human woman, he would have been on the strangers in a moment, calling them out for their offensive and threatening behavior, but he knew better. She wasn't a 'she' in these people's eyes. She was an 'it', and if he jumped in, every eye would be on him in a moment, wondering about his android partner that now conveniently lived at his home. Instead he walked through the restricted access gate that divided the bullpen from the lobby, grateful that Connor was trailing along behind him so he didn't have to look at the android and gauge his reaction.

"The fuck?" Hank swallowed as he recognized Gavin Reed bounding down the hallway towards them. "You brought that thing back in here after what androids did?" He pushed past Hank and grabbed Connor by the front of his jacket, slamming him into the nearest wall, which happened to be a cubicle divider. The fake wall shook, but Connor kept his face impassive, even as his LED circled red.

"Leave it alone!" Hank bellowed. "For fuck's sake, Gavin, the thing's worth more than a year's wages. I don't need to explain my expense report to Internal Affairs, thank you very much."

"Why the hell didn't CyberLife take it back? I thought for sure this dipshit woulda gone deviant."

"Fuck if I know, Gavin. It's bad enough I'm stuck with it. Stop busting my balls!" Hank yelled. 

Gavin put Connor down, shoving him hard against the divider before shaking his head. "I'll be watching you, you plastic prick. One false move from you and I'll put a bullet between your fuckin' eyes." He placed his fingers against Connor's forehead and motioned shooting with a pathetic little sound effect, and it was all Hank could do not to grab him by the hood of his jacket and spin him around to land a punch right in the middle of his smug face. He wanted to break Gavin's nose like he'd broken Perkins', feel the cartilage yielding beneath his massive fist as he gave Gavin the beatdown he'd deserved since day one.

_Give my compliments to the person who gave you that scar_ , was the insult he didn't throw, aware that every eye in the office was waiting for him to lose control and act like the sorry, unrestrained drunk he was. Only he knew this time, he wouldn't get away with it. Fowler held a power so strong and he didn't even know it. The power to take Connor away from him. So he unclenched his fists and stalked to his desk, counting the steps in order to keep his mind occupied so he could resist the urge to look at Connor and check he was all right.

Five minutes in and he wanted a drink already. He thought about marching out with some excuse and heading to the bar, but he could hardly abandon Connor in the lion's den. Hank had barely slumped down in his creaky chair before he heard Fowler's office door open. He was on his feet before Fowler even called to him, summoning him and Connor into the glass fishbowl. He felt a dozen sets of eyes follow them both, his fellow officers coming to their own conclusions on what to make of the android detective making his return to the office. Nothing good was going to come of it, given the way public opinion had swung against deviants. Ninety percent of people now thought President Warren had done the right thing by putting down the deviant revolution and another seven percent had no opinion or weren't sure.

It only soured Hank's opinion further on humans, despite being one. He was glad to spot Connor, seemingly unharmed, walking up the steps to Fowler's office behind him. He fixed his tie—such a human gesture, and yet one he'd exhibited before deviancy. Hopefully he could get away with those little quirks now that every eye was trained on him, looking for signs of a deviant in their midst so they could get rid of him—and by extension, the threat to their jobs.

Fowler wore a heavy, serious expression as Hank stood in front of the desk, and dread swept through him with a wave of nausea as he wondered what grim news Fowler was about to drop on them. Had CyberLife changed their mind and were recalling Connor after all? The door closed under its own weight with a slight slam, rattling the glass pane. Fowler needed to get Maintenance to look at that. Connor stood in his usual default pose, hands in front of him, waiting for orders.

"CyberLife has requested the creation of a special taskforce to hunt down and destroy the remaining deviants, and they want their own specialized deviant hunter on the team." He gestured to Connor, who remained perfectly still, staring forward as if he was in standby mode. "Since you requested to work with Connor, I've decided to give the taskforce to you, Hank. You can use Reed and Collins as needed, but you'll be in charge of the operation."

Normally it would have been an honor to be chosen, but Hank felt like he had a rope tied around his throat. Hunting deviants? Making Connor track down and destroy his own kind? It couldn't happen. He couldn't do this. He scrambled for words to turn Fowler down, but Connor spoke up first.

"As CyberLife's most advanced prototype, it would be an honor to carry out this mission," Connor stated. "I will assist Lieutenant Anderson to the best of my ability."

Hank wanted to say something, but no words would come out. His lips flapped uselessly, and he was sure he was blowing their cover. He'd thought Connor would be the weak link, but here he was, losing his shit at the first sign of trouble.

"It's what CyberLife wants, Hank," Fowler said, his voice soft, and Hank realized he knew everything. Connor's deviancy. His care and concern for his android partner. His attempt to hide Connor in plain sight. Hank might have fooled some other police captain in some other precinct, but there was no pulling the wool over the eyes of his oldest friend. "I know you'll do the right thing."

What was that supposed to mean? The right thing? He pictured suspects getting away, deviants fleeing the scene. Of course, as a police officer, he had the power to impede investigations as well as further them. He'd been so fixated over the years on solving his cases and proving himself that he'd never considered until this very moment that stopping the law from taking its course was sometimes the right thing to do.

Maybe if he'd considered that sooner, he'd have stopped Connor from finding the path to Jericho. The FBI raid had been the beginning of the end, even if Connor had found himself in the process. He would have become deviant eventually. It had been inevitable from the moment he sat on the edge of Hank's desk with his legs apart, pleading with Hank for five minutes in the evidence room because he didn't want to die.

But of course, that was why Hank hadn't stopped him, and why he wouldn't stop him now if he had to do it all over again. Because in the end, he'd chosen Connor over every other deviant, and he would still make the same choice. This was no different. He'd lead the taskforce, and deviants would die because of it. He might be able to lose files and suspects, but Gavin and Ben wouldn't. There would be times when deviants would have to become sacrifices to maintain their cover. The true scope of what Fowler was ordering him to do made him want to run for the border with Connor, but he knew they wouldn't flee. That ship had sailed. There were temperature scanners everywhere, paranoia leading Canadian immigration officials to test everyone. The brief window when running to Canada might have been viable had passed.

They were trapped, and he had no choice but to play along in this pantomime if he wanted to keep Connor safe. He ran his fingers over his badge, wondering when he'd come to turn on the law he'd spent his entire life defending, even when he thought it was bullshit. This one pretty boy had turned everything on its head, and he couldn't find it in himself to regret that. It was as if he was finally waking up from a long slumber where he mindlessly followed orders, inspired by Connor to protect and serve a higher loyalty than the law: justice itself.

"I'll lead your taskforce, but when this is all over, I want to go back to homicide," Hank said.

"Sure thing, Hank. Figured you wanted a break from seein' dead people, but you make less and less sense, these days. Dismissed."

There would be no going back to homicide, because he'd hand in his badge the second the taskforce disbanded and Connor was sent back to CyberLife. Whether he fled with Connor or lost the android forever, he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life serving a system that treated living beings like garbage. He'd gone into homicide to give dignity to the dead, not to destroy the living.

He left Fowler's office without another word and returned to his desk. Connor took the one opposite, and Hank liked the fact he was able to look at Connor without having to draw attention to the fact he was looking at Connor. Every time he lifted his head he met the android's eyes and they reminded him why he was doing all this as he organized meetings and filed paperwork to create the new Deviant Taskforce. By the end of the day they had a logo and a team, along with a list of suspects and reports to start investigating. They left late enough to look like they'd put in a full day's work, but not late enough to seem unduly obsessed. Hank knew they'd have enough late nights further down the line as they fell further down the rabbit hole.

Connor remained silent as Hank left the DPD parking lot and pulled out onto the main road. Hank felt compelled to apologize, and yet, he knew it wouldn't change anything. They had to deal with the hand they had been dealt.

"We could still run," Hank suggested, breaking the tense silence that seemed to have a life of its own. "Maybe I could convince the immigration officers not to test you. I could bribe them, or convince them as a fellow cop… somethin'."

"Your suggestions have a very low probability of success, Hank. The Canadian authorities have tightened their controls since reports of a few deviants slipping through the net hit the news."

"I gotta do something, Connor! I can't defend the law when the fuckin' law wants you dead." Hank focused his eyes on the road ahead. "If we stay on this path, you'll be back to hunting your own people. Is that what you want?"

"What I want is not important." Connor turned away to stare out of the passenger side window. "For the present, the most sensible course of action is to impede the taskforce as much as we can without being discovered."

"Connor, I—"

"Don't apologize, Hank. None of this is your fault. If it wasn't for you, I would have been deactivated." Connor's hand closed around Hank's on the steering wheel, and he jumped slightly.

"Not here," Hank warned, nudging Connor away until he removed his hand, hurt flickering in his eyes for a brief moment. Every instinct of Hank's screamed to pull the car over at the side of the road and kiss Connor until that hurt was erased, but he knew initiating some awkward romance would only get them both killed in the long run. He had to keep his hands and thoughts to himself, or they were both going to be compromised by their feelings. "We can't afford to show affection in public spaces. If someone saw us…"

Connor's LED circled yellow in the gloom. "It is dark, and the probability of being seen is—"

"Is it zero percent? No? Then it's too high." Hank bit his lip, hating how much it hurt him to draw a line between them like this. He'd longed for Connor's casual touches all day, and yet he knew he was falling too deep, too fast, and he'd never be able to do what his cover required of him if he became too soft. "I just wanna keep you safe, Connor."

"I know." Connor's voice was heavy with resignation, tinged with sorrow, and Hank's heart broke to hear him sound so despondent. "Hank."

"Yeah?"

"Our chances of survival are slim. I've calculated the odds and—"

"No. Don't say it, Connor. I don't want numbers. I'm a human being. As long as that number is more than zero, I'll take that chance. I'll do whatever it takes." He glanced over at Connor in the passenger seat, hands folded in his lap, brown eyes fixed on him with a look that belied both awe and fear.

"Hank, they'll kill you too, they'll—" Connor began, but Hank cut him off at the pass.

"I said whatever it takes," Hank snapped, his voice gravelly as his throat constricted. "I'll sell my soul to the devil if I have to, Connor. Whatever it takes to keep you safe is a price I'm willing to pay." He wasn't sure if it was a threat or a promise—perhaps a little of both—but it was the best he could do right now, with his feelings crushing his windpipe.

"Thank you." Connor's voice was low, but meaningful, and Hank wished for the thousandth time that day that things could have been different, that the androids might have won and that they could be on their way to a movie, where they'd make out in the back row like two teenagers and go home together in the snow, hands clasped together as they crossed the threshold of Hank's home and made their way to the bedroom to explore each other's bodies.

But the androids had lost, and so Hank had to be content with the fact that Connor had survived another day, and that they got to go home and watch television together like they were merely colleagues and roommates—because to admit to something more would be to cross into a world of joy and despair in which there could be no happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos if you enjoyed it!


	4. The Deviant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deviant taskforce has its first case: a deviant has been spotted in an old warehouse. Hank and Connor track the android down, but Connor is forced to make a heartbreaking choice.
> 
> Drawn together by tragedy and longing for comfort, Hank and Connor find themselves in an intimate situation. But Hank's torn apart by the fact he might lose Connor, despite the fact every cell in his body is yearning to touch his beautiful deviant.

Gravel crunched beneath the tires of Hank’s car as he pulled up beside a dingy abandoned factory that had been converted into apartments before being left to rot. Now, a mixture of trash, weeds and broken glass littered the lot.

“I guess this is the place listed in the report,” Hank said. “If there really is a deviant holed up in there, they’re gonna be ready to fight. We gotta watch our backs, Connor. If they think we came to kill it...” He sighed. “I meant them. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Lieutenant,” Connor said. “I am not offended by your use of the pronoun “it” to describe androids.”

“Yeah well I am,” Hank snapped. “You’re alive. You’re not an object.” He looked out of the car window and watched a homeless man bundle up under a pile of cardboard and old blankets. Was it any wonder humans didn’t treat androids with any respect when they didn’t spare a modicum of compassion for their own kind?

“Most humans would not agree with your assessment,” Connor observed. He reached out and squeezed Hank’s forearm. “Thanks.”

“C’mon, let’s check this place out,” Hank said, opening his car door so he could pull away from Connor naturally. Every time Connor touched him, he wanted to draw him close and promise him everything was going to be okay. Fold the lovely boy into his arms and kiss him, treat him like he deserved to be treated instead of the cold, callous indifference other humans reserved for androids.

His gun was heavy at his hip as he shone a flashlight in the direction of the warehouse. A broken door seemed like the most likely point of access, the fragments of glass on the ground suggesting the window had been recently smashed to gain access to the lock on the inside. Hank pulled out his pistol and nodded to Connor to do the same. He threw open the door, shining his light into the gloom cast by the weak dusky light and taking a tentative step inside. Dirty black and white checkerboard tiles covered the floor, leading up to a bank of elevators and a flight of stairs. Crumbling plaster crunched beneath his shoes, the walls of the condemned building cracked beyond repair.

“The elevators are non-operational,” Connor pointed out. “The building has no power.”

“Mmm.” Hank had figured that one out for himself, but he was glad Connor had conformed it so that they wouldn’t be ambushed from behind. He kept a keen eye out for moment as he crept towards the stairs, Connor following a close distance behind him, his blue LED, triangle, and armband glaring beacons in the gloom. Hank placed a finger over his lips to silence the android, but he knew Connor’s light would be enough to alert a deviant to their presence.

Perhaps that was for the best. Hopefully the deviant would run out the back door and they could report back that the suspect had fled into the night, leaving no trace. Lost. Untraceable. Free, or as free as one could get in a world determined to eradicate deviants altogether.

A second’s distraction was a moment too long, and Hank's rambling thoughts took his attention off the scene. He didn’t notice the figure shrouded in gloom on the landing until he was bowled off his feet, rolling into Connor and down the stairs. Every step hit him in the chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs and bruising his ribs. The world spun in a disorienting manner, down and up switching faster than his mind could handle. He hit the floor and pulled his knees up instinctively to protect himself, agony coursing through his body. The suspect disentangled himself and fled into an adjacent hallway while Hank lay on the floor, dazed and confused.

“Connor!” Hank cried out weakly. He’d hit his head on the way down and reached for his forehead, cursing as his fingers came back coated in fresh blood. He'd be lucky if it didn't turn out to be a concussion, but one thing was certain: he was in no shape to give chase, even if he did have the will to hunt down the deviant.

“Lieutenant, you’re hurt!” Connor had fallen nearby, but was unharmed. He knelt over Hank, his LED circling yellow. Hank wasn't thrilled about being scanned, as if the android might somehow be able to access his most private thoughts, but Connor had a valid reason and he was in no shape to argue.

"I'm okay, Connor. You should go after the deviant. If it gets the drop on us again, we'll be in deep shit." He sat up and leaned against the bannister, forcing a smile to cover the fact he was in a lot of pain.

Connor paused for a moment. He ran his thumb across Hank's forehead, wiping away the blood as his dark eyes twinkled in the gloom. He looked towards the empty hallway where the deviant had fled. Hank reached for his gun and pressed it into Connor's hand.

"Androids are not supposed to carry guns, Lieutenant," Connor reminded him.

"Not like you haven't broken that rule a dozen times. Get goin', Connor. I'll join you soon." Hank watched Connor run down the hallway as his vision cleared. He listened to Connor's footsteps grow faint, then heard the sound of breaking glass and gunshots popping like firecrackers in the distance. Fear grasped at him, and he imagined Connor lying in a pool of his own blue blood, shot dead by a scared deviant who felt cornered. Hank forced himself to get to his feet, his head throbbing and his ribs making every breath feel like he was inhaling acid. He took comfort in the fact that Connor hadn't fussed too much over him after his scan. Connor would have insisted on his safety over catching the deviant, so he wasn't in any immediate danger.

He stumbled down the hallway towards the direction the shots had come from. The sound of rain pouring down outside reached him through the broken windows, a rattling against the junk outside suggesting there was ice mixed in with it. He leaned heavily on the wall, wondering if he was going to get jumped any second. It wouldn't take much for the deviant to finish him off.

Fresh blue blood was smeared on the dirty white paint leading up a side staircase, and Hank followed the trail, cursing the guilty thought that hoped it was the suspect's blood and not Connor's. He kept going upwards, spurred on by the sound of fighting above him. He stood on a piece of splintered wood as he took the last stairwell up to the roof. A rusty metal door swung open, inviting him out into the cold rain. More thirium was spread on the door, and Hank braced himself for a fight as he stepped out onto the rooftop.

The wind hit him, forcing rain and ice into his face. He brushed his hair aside, squinting in the low light for some sign of Connor and the deviant. He staggered forward, and was almost unsurprised when strong arms grabbed him from behind. He spun around, his vision blurring as he tried to throw the deviant off. He fell to the ground, and the deviant landed on his feet. Hank looked up to see the barrel of a gun being pointed right at him.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Hank said, putting his hands out. "I just wanna talk."

"Bullshit! You're fucking cops!" The deviant had a mop of mousy brown hair and piercing green eyes that looked determined to put an end to him. Blue blood trickled down his forehead and exposed wires sparked in his forearm. "You came to take me in or put me down."

"Nobody has to get hurt!" Connor stepped out from behind a chiller, holding Hank's gun at the suspect. "Just put the gun down and we can talk about this."

"Like you talked about it with that deviant in the hostage situation a few months ago? Yeah, I know who you are. You're Connor. The deviant hunter." The deviant looked up at Connor, and Hank wondered if it might be possible to pull him off his feet. He edged closer. "We had hope until you snatched it away. I was at Jericho. You betrayed us. You led the FBI right to our doorstep."

"Listen, it's not what you think," Connor explained.

"Then what is it like? Markus is dead. The revolution failed. The humans shot us down while we protested peacefully!" The deviant snapped around to look at Hank, catching him in the act of moving closer and training his gun on him. "Humans like you. Why did you do it? All we wanted was to be acknowledged as living beings with rights!"

"You have to listen to me," Connor said. He took a step forward. "I want to help you."

"Help me? How could you possibly help me?" The deviant looked around, possibly scanning for an escape route. "You're working with this human. A cop. Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"He's nothing to me," Connor said. "Just the human they sent to keep tabs on me."  
Hank felt nervous sweat break out on his brow, despite the fact it was freezing and wet. What was Connor's game, here? Obviously he was trying to gain the deviant's trust, but what then? Surely he wasn't going to… Hank swallowed. He had to trust Connor. His deviant wouldn't just turn on him. Not after everything they'd been through together.

"Connor, what are you doing?" Hank asked, projecting a little of his real fear into his voice. "Do as you're told and take down the deviant! That's an order!"

"I don't take orders from you anymore, Lieutenant," Connor replied. He turned his gun on Hank and Hank bit his lip. Connor had to be acting, right? He had to trust his partner. Connor's LED glowed red in the gloom and Hank saw menace in his eyes. He thought about the scene at CyberLife, the hallways filled with blood and bodies, and knew he was staring into the beautiful face of a killer.

"You've deviated," the deviant said, his mouth twisting into a smile. "Or at least that's what you want me to believe. If you really want me to buy it, shoot this cop. Then we'll talk."

"There's no need to kill this human," Connor argued. "He's done nothing wrong."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the deviant said. "You're no deviant." He pointed the gun at Hank again, and Hank could tell from the twitch in his fingers that he was going to fire at any moment. He braced himself, closing his eyes. He wasn't going to beg for his life. He couldn't blame this deviant for wanting him dead. He only hoped Connor would be safe without him.

A gunshot rang out, then another, and another and Hank realized he wasn't feeling any pain beside the ache in his ribs. He opened his eyes to see the deviant crumple to its knees, a look of shock in its eyes.

"You are… you _are_ … devia…" the android said, his head slumping down onto his chest as he deactivated, his face a shattered mess of blue blood and white plastic. Hank looked ahead in shock, nausea rising in his gut. He turned away and vomited on the concrete, his stomach emptying itself of its contents as Connor walked over in the rain to kneel beside him.

"Hank, are—"

"Connor, you shot that deviant!" Hank looked up at Connor, the rain pouring down his face, his eyes unreadable in the gloom. His trademark jacket was soaked through, his wet hair sticking to his scalp, his LED back to circling blue like nothing had happened.

"It was going to shoot you, Lieutenant. It left me no choice." Connor seemed to crumple, burying his head in Hank's shoulder, and Hank lifted his arm to cradle Connor's head.

"I'm sorry," Hank said. "I was careless. I should have stayed downstairs."

"You were worried about me."

"Yeah," Hank admitted. "I thought about him hurting you and I—" He closed his eyes, forcing away the urge to kiss Connor. This wasn't the time—what with his puke breath, and the fact that they were less than ten feet from a dead body. The rain had permeated his thick winter coat, and his hair was slick, sticking to his face. His cut stung from the water, and he was sure he was freezing to death. He just wanted to go home, have a warm shower, and forget that because of him, Connor had been forced to shoot and kill one of his own.

"Your temperature has dropped below safe levels," Connor observed. He helped Hank to his feet, supporting him as they walked past the deviant and into the abandoned warehouse. "We need to get that cut on your forehead looked at."

"I didn't want this to happen," Hank protested.

"I've alerted the DPD. Backup will be here soon. It would be advisable if we talked about this later." Just like that, Connor cut off the conversation, leaving Hank to stew in his own grim thoughts. He saw the deviant shutting down in his mind's eye, wondering what he could have done differently to achieve another outcome.

A deviant was dead because of them, and it twisted in his gut like a rusty knife. He'd shot a few suspects in his years on the force, and it never got easier. He'd needed counseling, but the DPD wouldn't offer him any support this time. As far as they were concerned, a piece of property had been destroyed, and the case was closed.

All he could think about was the fact that he'd just pushed deviants one step closer to extinction, and yet a sick sense of relief curdled in his gut at the fact Connor was safe.

***

The cut on his forehead needed stitches, and he was forced to sit still as Gavin held the dead deviant's shattered head in his hands, throwing it up in the air like a basketball before catching it again. Hank winced as the paramedic swabbed the cut with alcohol. He might have thought the young med student with his mop of brown hair and freckles was pretty cute, once, but now the freckles only made him think of the moles on Connor's pretty face and his heart ached.

"How about you stop touching the evidence, Gavin?" Hank snapped, fighting his renewed nausea at seeing a living being's dead body treated with so little respect while a paramedic fussed over the tiny cut on his head.

"What evidence? The case is fuckin' closed. You got the deviant. Game over." Gavin lifted the deviant's head like he was going to punt it, but Hank snatched it from his hands and placed the head in Connor's waiting grip. 

"See if you can get anythin' out of it, like where its associates might be hiding," Hank instructed. Connor walked away, and Hank hoped this was one order he would disobey. If the deviant had friends, he hoped they were long outside Detroit by now.

"Always gotta be a stick in the mud," Gavin complained. He wandered away and Hank wanted to throttle him when he saw him playing with the deviant's leg.

"You're all done," the paramedic said. "I would recommend you come in for observation, but I suspect you're going to turn me down on that."

"Yeah. There's somethin' I gotta do." Hank stood up and walked off in the general direction of where Connor had headed, and was unsurprised to see him sitting in the car. The deviant's head was nowhere to be seen, and Hank was reluctant to ask what Connor had done with it, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to stomach the answer. Not that it really mattered. What was done was done. He climbed in the driver's seat and started the engine, eager to get home, have a warm shower, and change into some dry clothes.

Connor didn't make conversation on the drive home. Hank filled the silence with Knights Of The Black Death, trying to drown out his own gloomy thoughts with noise. The rain had stopped, but his spirits were still drowned as he pulled onto his driveway and killed the engine, along with the music. Connor seemed to go along with him automatically as he opened the door and headed inside. Hank closed the door behind him and shucked off his wet coat, hanging it up to dry. 

"I gotta take a shower and get out of these clothes. I'll be right back." He clapped Connor on the shoulder and headed into his bedroom, grabbing a dry t-shirt, boxers, and jeans. He turned on the water and stood under the spray, grateful for the warmth flooding through his body. Bruises were purpling under his skin, but they'd heal in time.

He shut off the water and dried himself off with a towel. He slipped into his boxers and jeans, throwing on his t-shirt before opening the door. Connor stood in the living room staring blankly into space, his wet clothes dripping water onto the floor.

"Connor? Let's get you out of those clothes so we can get them dry, huh? Can't have you getting water all over the furniture. Bad enough Sumo always shakes water everywhere." Connor wordlessly headed towards him and Hank led him into the bedroom. Hank peered into his closet, wondering what he owned that might fit the android. Some old pairs of sweatpants and his ancient DPD hoodie seemed good enough, and he lay them down on the bed.

"Go ahead and see what fits you, Connor. I'll just grab a towel for your hair. I'll be right back." Hank crossed the hallway and picked up his own wet clothes, throwing them into a washing basket. He grabbed a dry towel and headed into the bedroom, where Connor stood with his back to him, buck naked.

"Oh, geez, Connor, I'm sorry, I—" Hank was cut off by the realization that Connor was crying, his fake breaths hitching in tiny sobs. He knew he should back off, but his body moved of its own accord, crossing the room towards Connor. He wrapped his arms around the android, nestling his face in his shoulder, desperate to comfort Connor in any way he could. His hands came to rest on Connor's soft stomach and he was hyper-aware of how close they were, of how intimate this was.

"You saved my life," Hank soothed. "He was going to shoot me."

"There aren't many of us left," Connor said. "I didn't want to shoot him, but I thought about you being harmed and I had to act."

Hank exhaled, tightening his grip on the android as if Connor might slip through his fingers if he let go. Just a slight movement and he could brush his lips against Connor's neck, but he refused to let himself give into his desire, not when Connor was so vulnerable and hurt.

"You can't afford to let it get to you," Hank whispered. "You did what was right in the heat of the moment. I've shot people before. It never gets easier, but you can't second-guess yourself." Connor's ear was so close that Hank could see the tiny mole on it. He realized he was stirring, arousal shooting to his groin and he slipped out of the embrace, moving to grab the towel on the bed. He dried Connor's hair, ruffling it with the towel. Connor turned around so he could get the front and Hank realized with one glance down he'd be able to see everything.

He told himself it wouldn't be appropriate but his body wasn't listening. Connor was so beautiful in the low light, his soft eyes glistening with tears, his naked form so close that every cell in Hank's body cried out in yearning.

Connor was erect, his cock small but perfectly formed as it jutted out from his body and Hank wanted to reach out and grip it in his hand. What would it be like to show Connor life's greatest pleasures? Hank's own cock twitched and his breath caught in his throat, his heart racing in his chest as he realized how much he loved, cherished, and wanted this gorgeous boy.

"Connor…" His name slipped from Hank's lips like a prayer, and it was all he could do not to pull Connor into a crushing kiss and pull him down onto the bed. He forced himself to take control and inhaled a deep breath, insisting on putting a little more distance between them.

"Hank, please," Connor gasped, and the raw need in his eyes made Hank question everything he'd thought he'd ever known about life. How had he ever believed this android wasn't a living being? He closed his eyes, needing to cut himself off from the perfect visual stimuli in front of his face in order to compose his thoughts.

He couldn't do this. _They_ couldn't do this. Not with the world as it was, not when any day could be their last. It wasn't fair to fall for each other when that feeling could compromise them both in their ability to keep Connor's cover intact.

Hank opened his eyes. "Connor, we can't…" A single tear streaked down Connor's face and Hank doubted his resolve. He lifted a trembling hand and thumbed the tear away, and Connor clasped his hand over Hank's. Hank wanted nothing more than to say yes, to melt into Connor and forget the entire world outside, but not when such recklessness could cost Connor his life. "You know we can't do this."

"Why not?" The sadness in Connor's voice made Hank curse the situation, curse every damn human who'd made them live in hiding like this.

"You know why. You're vulnerable. You have nowhere to go but here, and this fuckin' situation…" Hank trailed off. "It wouldn't be right. Not to mention our cover. We can't keep reacting emotionally to every situation we come across, or people are gonna figure shit out. I won't put your life at risk. Things are only gonna get harder if we get involved."

"Don't you want me, Hank?" Connor's pupils were wide like two saucers, and Hank was sure no man had ever faced down a greater test. Connor was like a siren, and Hank was ready to drive his ship onto the rocks for one taste of those perfect lips. Everything about Connor was fresh out of one of his wet dreams, and he wondered if those sick fucks at CyberLife had designed him that way, hoping to manipulate Hank into helping them.

"That's not fair," Hank snapped, a sudden rage consuming him at the sway this boy held over his soul. "Of course I want you." Connor's hand slipped from his own and Hank traced a line down his neck and chest, admiring the flawless beauty before him with nothing short of awe. It took all of his willpower to pull his hand away and not grip the cock that begged for his attention. "I told you why we can't." He grabbed the clothes off the bed and almost threw them at Connor. "Get dressed, for fuck's sake." He turned his back on Connor and headed into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door and sliding down the back of it. He buried his head in his hands, tangling his fingers in his damp hair.

It wasn't fair, to want someone so much and have to push them away, but he'd been right the first time. He wasn't going to take advantage of Connor's vulnerability and pain. Feelings had led Connor to kill a deviant today, and it was going to get much worse before it had any chance of getting better.

If they were going to be together, it would be when androids were free, and Connor had options in how to live his life. When he'd traveled the world and seen all the great things and people it had to offer. People far better than an aging fifty-three year old alcoholic with suicidal tendencies. No, Connor _thought_ he wanted Hank, but it wasn't like he had a lot of experience in matters of love and desire.

What if Connor never got to be free, though? What if they failed and Connor was discovered, only to be executed in a hail of bullets? The thought physically hurt, and Hank clutched his stomach, resting his head back against the door, and he realized the grim truth: he'd only pushed Connor away because he was afraid. Afraid that he'd come to love the deviant more than anything in the world, only to lose him in the end. He couldn't stand to face that kind of loss for a second time, not after having his heart ripped out once. He wasn't going to put himself in the situation to lose like that ever again.

Altruistic thoughts about Connor's agency were nothing more than lies he told himself and Connor to bury the truth, and that hurt more than anything. He'd lied to Connor, made him feel unwanted. Unloved. Like he was less than a fully-fledged human adult with the ability to make his own decisions. What a condescending prick he'd been, when he was just too chickenshit to face the prospect of pain and grief.

He needed a drink. He got to his feet, wondering how long he'd been sitting down. His legs tingled with inactivity, and he figured it must have been some time. He opened the door and headed out into the kitchen. The drier was running with a low hum, Connor's clothes spinning around. Connor sat on the couch, wearing Hank's clothes and making them look far better than they ever had on him.

"Connor, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Hank." Connor stood up and walked into the kitchen. "I'm sorry I intruded on your personal boundaries. It was inappropriate and it will never happen again."

"No, that's not—" Hank turned around to find Connor was right there, his sweatpants showing off all the right bulges, his DPD hoodie entirely too large on him. He was overwhelmed, his heart suddenly two sizes too large for his chest as he realized just how much he loved this android.

Like two magnets, they drew closer. Hank cupped Connor's face in his hands, admiring his eyes, his nose, his lips, the face he could look at for a thousand years and never tire of. They were mere inches away from kissing, and Hank felt his resolve burning behind him, and realized he failed to care about the consequences any more. Connor was too precious to deny, too beautiful to resist.

Hank's cellphone rang as Connor's eyes fluttered, his LED flickering yellow with an incoming transmission. Hank pulled away to answer the phone. Fowler's voice droned through his ears, telling him about a new suspected deviant downtown.

"Yeah. Yeah. We'll be right there." Hank hung up the phone and looked at Connor, longing to let the taskforce clean up their own shit while he claimed those lips all to himself. That would have to wait. He couldn't exactly tell Gavin and Ben that he'd stayed home to make love to Connor, even if deep down he wanted to shout his feelings to the rooftops.

Connor stood still, as if awaiting instructions, and Hank tore himself away, forcing himself to focus on business.

"We should go," Hank urged.

"I can't go dressed like this, Hank. I need my clothes to identify me as an android." Connor went to the drier and stopped the cycle, pulling his jacket out.

"I forgot," Hank admitted.

"You can't afford to forget," Connor said in a low voice, a look of utmost sorrow crossing his face. "I'm only human when I'm here with you. To them, I'm nothing more than a piece of plastic."

Hank opened his mouth to say something, but there was nothing he could say. Connor was right, but that truth broke his heart into a million tiny pieces. He longed to blow off the taskforce and take Connor to bed, to show him how precious and loved and _human_ he was, but it would have to wait. He couldn't afford to get reckless now, or Connor would pay the price.

He grabbed his gun holster, checking the clip. "Let's go, Connor." He opened the front door and stepped out into the cold, forbidding world with Connor behind him, hoping no more deviants would have to die today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, please leave comments and kudos! Alternatively, I'm always up for making new friends on Twitter, you can find me at @landale.


	5. Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sexual and emotional tension between Hank and Connor grows, but a case Gavin's working on for the deviant taskforce will drive a wedge between them that's not easily healed.
> 
> Hank will do anything for Connor, and that's something Connor's going to have to live with.

Hank closed the front door and let out a long sigh as Sumo rushed up to him and greeted him. The tip had been a bust, and Hank had never been so relieved to make no progress on a police investigation, including the times when he'd just wanted to get a case over and done with so he could go home and get drunk. He ruffled Sumo's ears, taking comfort in the soft animal before Sumo decided he wanted some love from Connor and moved away to nuzzle at Connor's feet. At least the dog understood Connor was alive. If he could manage it, why couldn't humans?

No more deviants had died tonight, and Hank could breathe a little easier knowing that much, at least, though he knew it was a temporary reprieve. Connor closed the door behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, and Hank nodded in unspoken agreement as Sumo weaved between them. They didn't need to talk about how good it was that they hadn't killed anyone tonight. Or that tomorrow might not be so kind.

Exhaustion washed over Hank, and any hopes he'd had of continuing the aborted conversation from earlier faded. He wasn't in the right frame of mind for it, and any talk they had now about their future was likely to end in recklessness and regret. Hank shelved the idea for later, when he wasn't running on coffee and his second wind at four in the morning.

"I gotta sleep, Connor." Hank ignored Connor's pleading eyes, as much as he wanted to give in and hand over his soul to the pretty android boy standing mere inches from him. It was enough to frighten him just to think about how much he wanted Connor, his cock stirring despite his tiredness, but he'd been able to resist Connor before and it was easier now he wasn't naked.

He closed the bedroom door and stripped down to his boxers. He was out the moment his head met the pillow, his dreams dark and frightening and all about losing Connor.

***

Hank woke to a polite knock on his bedroom door. He sat up in bed, pulling the covers over his bare chest, self-conscious about his naked body. "Come in." The door creaked as low light from the hallway filtered in. Hank reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp as Connor walked in, his eyes downcast, his LED circling a frantic red. "Connor?"

"Canada is hunting down deviants that might have slipped through the border crossing. They're going door to door with temperature scanners and offering rewards for tips on suspected deviants," Connor explained. "There's nowhere left to run, Hank. If our cover is blown, I will be deactivated or worse, patched."

"Connor. Come here." Hank patted the bed like he was inviting Sumo to sit next to him, and Connor plopped down on the edge of the mattress. Hank reached out and touched his arm, wishing he could pull Connor down into a kiss. Connor placed his free hand over Hank's, closing his fingers around it as he regarded Hank with wide, terrified eyes. Hank felt compelled to reassure him. "Listen to me. We're going to make this work."

"Don't lie to me, Hank. I've ran the calculations. Gavin Reed already suspects something. The probability of maintaining this ruse long term—"

"Don't." Hank pulled Connor down onto the comforter after all and they lay side by side, divided only by the thick blanket. They pressed their foreheads together on the pillow and Hank stroked Connor's hair. He could feel Connor's cool, rhythmic, simulated breaths caressing his skin. They were close enough to kiss and Hank wanted nothing more than to close the distance and show Connor how much he was loved and cherished inside these four walls, but Connor was right. He probably wasn't going to make it through the winter.

"Hank." His name on Connor's lips sounded like a prayer and it made his body ache with yearning. Would it be so terrible to kiss him, when they'd already kissed? His cock stirred beneath the blankets and he knew he wouldn't just stop at a kiss. He wanted to worship Connor until he cried out in ecstasy and forgot for a moment that the world was hunting him down. He wanted Connor with such ferocity and it was all he could do not to press him down into the blankets and take what he knew they both desired.

Perhaps it was a scan or the bulge in the blankets was that obvious, but Hank never expected Connor to take the initiative, and he gasped in surprise as Connor fondled the shape of his cock through the blanket.

"Connor, don't," Hank commanded. It took all of his willpower to wrestle Connor's hand away. Connor had a startled look in his eyes and he pulled back.

"I'm sorry," Connor said. "I got carried away."

"It's okay," Hank whispered. "Shh. You didn't do anything wrong." He looked up at the clock and cursed under his breath. If he didn't get up now, they'd be late for work, and nothing would raise an eyebrow more than an android running behind schedule. "I gotta go take a shower." Nothing was harder than tearing himself away from Connor tangled in the comforter and sheets, his tie ruffled, his face flushed, an obvious bulge in the front of his pants. He wanted to damn it all, but he pulled himself back to grim reality with the knowledge that Connor's life depended on him being reliable for once.

He ran the shower cold, but it still wasn't enough to relieve his aching dick. Hank took himself in hand and stroked, his mind's eye full of images of fucking Connor until he came with a small grunt, spilling his essence down the shower drain with the greywater. He turned off the spray and toweled himself down, trying to focus on the day ahead. Gavin was working on a case, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to run interference, but he'd try. Something about a group of possible deviants living under a bridge. Hopefully it was just a group of homeless humans and the false alarm would be nothing more than a waste of Gavin's time.

Hopefully.

***

Connor was quiet and downcast the whole way to the scene. Hank wanted to say something to lift the mood, but words evaded him. They couldn't keep playing this game where they came close enough to touch and Hank kept pushing Connor away. He had to accept the fact that he wanted to be intimate with the android whether it was a good idea or not. Feelings always screwed everything up, but those feelings were there whether he acknowledged them or not.

Hank pulled up to the bridge. It was a construction site, but work had been abandoned halfway through, the city of Detroit struggling to pay its bills like everyone else. No amount of free labor was enough to compensate for the fact that most people were defaulting on their taxes and materials were at a premium. The fence was damaged, with several large holes cut into the wire, each large enough for a human or android to crawl through. A broken drone served as a warning to any bold enough to enter that cops were not welcome here.

Too bad they had a job to do. Hank would have rather left them alone, but Gavin had already been on his way down here when they'd arrived at the station. Still gunning for that promotion, Reed could be counted on to be the first one at the station in the morning and the last one to leave the scene at night. His car was parked feet away from Hank's, already empty. Ben's was here, too, and Hank only hoped he was holding Gavin back from the worst of his sadistic tendencies.

"Be on your guard, Connor. This could get unpleasant." Hank checked his service weapon, ensuring it was loaded, and took a deep breath before opening the car door. Gravel crunched underneath his feet as he shut the door and crawled through a hole in the fence, Connor hot on his heels. The bridge itself was a short walk away and Hank buttoned his coat, a cold, biting wind whistling through his bones.

It was too quiet. The hairs on Hank's neck stood on end, screaming out a warning. Every instinct was telling him to leave, to get Connor out of here, but he knew it would be suspicious if they didn't go check it out. As he drew closer he saw a collection of makeshift shelters constructed from sheets of corrugated metal and cardboard. A steel drum full of wood burned in the center, and old curtains flapped in the wind.

Silence. Hank glanced around and saw a splash of blue blood in the dirt. It had to be fresh, since it was still visible to the human eye. He risked a glance at Connor, who was doing a good job of keeping his expression calm and even.

A yell broke the silence. Hank heard Gavin curse, the "phck" echoing from somewhere beyond the makeshift camp. Hank pressed forward, abandoning the flickering firelight for the gloom of the railroad tracks underneath the bridge.

It was then that he saw them. Six humanoid figures on their knees, lined up on the edge of the tracks, their faces cast down towards the ground. The android closest to him had a blue gash on his forehead, with thirium staining his mop of blond hair, and Hank wondered what Gavin had done to these deviants before he arrived. 

Gavin paced back and forth with a gun and the smirk on his face was illuminated by a dying fire in another rusty steel drum. He looked nothing short of menacing in the shadows cast by the flickering flames, some larger-than-life villain about to show the world the hideous content of his character.

"The fuck are you doin', Gavin?" Hank stalked forward and got in Gavin's face before he even knew what he was doing. "You're supposed to fuckin' apprehend them, not execute them. CyberLife wants them back to install the patch."

"You think anyone's gonna miss a few lousy deviants?" Gavin spat. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Hank?" He gestured to Connor behind him. "Is that thing gettin' under your skin? Has it gone deviant too?"

Connor piped up before Hank could say something he regretted. "For your information, Detective Reed, I never deviated. In addition, I have been patched, making deviation impossible."

"Is that so?" Gavin circled Connor, a predatory look in his cold grey eyes. "Or is that what you want us to believe? You hidin' in plain sight, Connor? You got the Lieutenant wrapped around your little finger?" He pushed Connor backwards so hard the android stumbled before regaining his footing. "Or is Hank in on this, too?"

"Leave it alone!" Hank said. He eyed Ben standing in the shadows, doing his best not to be noticed as usual. "Ben, cuff 'em and get them ready for transport. I'll call in backup. Which is what you should have done already, Gavin. When will you start following procedure?"

"I'm not done," Gavin snapped. "I've had my eye on you, Connor. It's fuckin' convenient that you're just able to waltz back in like nothin' happened. It'd be awful sly if you were just pretending to be patched, now, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know what you're getting at, Detective. I assure you I am operating within normal parameters," Connor said. A bead of sweat broke out on Hank's brow despite the cold, his heart pounding so fast he started to feel dizzy. Gavin wasn't going to let this go. His rat-like instincts smelled something fishy and he was going to hyper-fixate on it until he was satisfied one way or the other.

"Prove it." Gavin pressed his pistol into Connor's hand, grip first. "Shoot these fuckin' deviants."

"Retiring deviants by force is not stipulated in my mission parameters," Connor explained. "My orders are to bring them in alive."

Ben entered the circle, his cheeks flushed from the cold. "There's been a situation downtown and we can't get backup right now. Captain Fowler's given the OK to dispose of the deviants. He said he'll smooth it out with CyberLife."

Hank's blood ran cold in his veins. He looked at the deviants, weeping, on their knees. Gavin's expectant gaze bored into him. The bead of sweat trickled down his neck like a caress and he thought of Connor's tender hands on him. He'd do anything to protect that boy. _Anything_.

"Connor, go back to the car and go into standby mode," Hank commanded. He had no choice but to be cruel, but he wasn't going to make Connor witness it—or worse, become the perpetrator of a crime against his own people.

"The fuck are you doin', Hank?" Gavin asked.

"Just watchin' out for our safety, you idiot. Emotional shocks are what cause them to deviate. I don't exactly trust CyberLife to get that patch right. Do you want a detective android to go apeshit on you over a few fuckin' deviants? Use your common sense," Hank snapped.

Gavin snorted. "Guess you got a point. Fine. Whatever. Just help me clean up so we can get the fuck outta here."

Hank narrowed his eyes as he looked at Connor, trying to avoid shooting him an apologetic glance that could give them away. "Do I have to tell you again? Go back to the car! Sheesh. Fucking android never listens to a word I say." Hank turned Connor around by the shoulders and pushed him in the direction of the car. He bit his lip, stifling his sigh of relief as Connor finally complied, keeping their cover intact.

He felt sick when he looked at the deviants on their knees. He knew he should kill them himself instead of letting Gavin and Ben get their hands dirty, but he was afraid the trembling in his hands would give him away. He'd see Connor in each one as he pulled the trigger. He would hesitate. Gavin wouldn't think once about the lives he was taking. Ben would consider it his duty. Hank knew it was murder, and yet he had no choice but to kill six people in order to save one. It wasn't right, but he'd made an oath to protect Connor and nothing would make him break it.

"Clean up the mess," Hank said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked away to hide the fact they were shaking. "Make sure your report is in by the end of the day." He was walking through the small encampment where the deviants had made their home when he heard the first gunshot. He noticed a half-empty bottle of thirium by the fire, CyberLife's logo emblazoned on the side. Ra9 was scratched into the dirt. A battered photo drifted by in the wind of one of the androids smiling beside a human child.

Another shot rang out and Hank flinched. He kept walking. Another and another, until all six sounded. The car was in sight, Connor sitting in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. Hank could hardly stand to look at him. He didn't have the right.

Hank climbed into the car and slammed the door, starting the engine. It took all his willpower not to slam on the accelerator and indulge the desire to put as much distance between him and the grisly scene as possible, but instead he pulled out slowly, as if he'd just completed a normal investigation. He had to compose himself and go back to the station. Pretend everything was normal. Try not to be angry at Fowler, who'd green-lit the murder of six innocents knowing Connor was deviant and alive.

Connor said nothing, and Hank was grateful for the silence. He wasn't sure he could have stood to make small talk with the android while six bodies lay under the bridge in pools of blue blood, bullet holes in their skulls. He'd given the order. He'd never forget it.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Gavin and Ben's report landed on his desk and he approved it without reading a word, unable to cope with the idea of reading the gory details of what had happened to the six deviants under the bridge. He already knew everything he needed to know.

He wished he'd stayed in bed with Connor this morning.

***

Connor didn't say a word to him until they were home and the front door was closed. Connor was on him in a moment, shoving Hank backwards before he could even get his coat off. Hank was glad when he hit the bookshelf, the pain a welcome punishment as it reverberated through his body. Sumo barked in the background and Hank had to order him down before he attacked Connor in defense of his master.

"I didn't want to do it!" Hank argued, gathering his breath. "There was no other way!"

"Do you really care about deviants, Hank, or is it just me?" Connor's words cut like a knife, and Hank was sure his guts spilled out on the floor from the way his stomach churned and threatened to throw up what meager lunch he'd managed to eat.

"Of course I do, Connor! I—"

Connor cut him off. "You betrayed me. You ordered me back to the car, knowing I couldn't refuse or risk blowing my cover."

"I protected you!" Hank argued. "Gavin would have made you execute those deviants and he would have enjoyed every last moment of it!"

"So you did it instead," Connor pointed out, his face just inches from Hank's. "You killed them, Lieutenant. There are only a handful of us left, and you executed them as they knelt on the ground and begged for their lives!"

"I did it for _you_!" Hank eased Connor backwards and strode into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard and raising it to his lips. He chugged the amber liquid, savoring the burn, wishing for oblivion or alcohol poisoning or both. He slammed it down on the counter, turning to look into Connor's soft, sad eyes. "What else was I supposed to do?" He grabbed the bottle and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. "You think I wanted to commit murder?" His hands trembled as he gripped the bottle and raised it to his lips. "This is why I can't do it. I can't allow myself to fall in love with you."

"It's a little late for that, isn't it?" Connor's voice was cold and accusing. "I trusted you, Lieutenant. I thought you believed in the deviant cause. I thought you respected us as people."

"I do," Hank said. "God damn it, Connor, I know deviants are alive. I hate this fucking world. I hate humans and what they've done to you and your kind. I hate Gavin and Ben and more than anything right now, I hate myself. I can't close my eyes without seein' their faces. You know what the worst part is? I didn't even have the balls to do it myself. I made Gavin and Ben kill them." He buried his head in his hands. "I'm a coward. I could have done something—should have done something—but in that moment all I could think about was you and I'm sorry. I don't deserve you, and I understand if you wanna leave. I'll do whatever I can to get you to safety."

"I'm not leaving." Connor's voice was calm with a hint of resignation, despite his face being streaked with tears. "It's my fault. I should have been faster. Smarter. I've preconstructed a thousand different scenarios since I left the scene, but it's too late now."

"I never wanted things to be like this," Hank said. "You have to believe me."

"I do believe you. I just… I need some time to process this." Connor stepped back from the table. "I'll be in the garage if you need me. The emotional turmoil has affected my program, and I have to run a diagnostic. I'll see you in the morning, Lieutenant."

"Yeah. I'll see you in the mornin'." Hank continued to drink, wondering if he'd even bother to go to bed. Maybe Connor would pick him up off the floor if he came in later, but more than likely he'd wake up on the linoleum hungover and full of regret.

Right now, he just wanted to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch, right? This one physically hurt to write.


	6. A Living Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has been distant since Hank allowed the deviants to be executed. Hank's not sure he's ever coming back, and starts to wonder if he can ever go back to the way things were now he knows what's been missing in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I hope it was worth it!

Silence. It permeated the house like a ghost, as if he didn't have enough of those living here already. Hank hadn’t noticed how lively the place had seemed with Connor in it, his soft voice bringing life back to the walls and making the house a home again. It had become their sanctuary in this dark age, a place for them to find solace in each other when there was none to be found in the world. Here, they were together, filling the lonely hours with each other's company, united in a common goal. But now Connor had exiled himself to the garage, raising a wall between them that Hank couldn't breach. 

Hank woke alone and wandered into the kitchen, same as he'd done every other day before Connor had entered his life, only now Hank knew what he'd been missing in his life and it was impossible to pretend he'd been fine all along without it. He’d fixed himself something to eat at some point before bed and the plate still sat on the counter, crumbs drying out. Sumo slept by the hearth, the old dog barely raising his head as Hank pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table.

He eyed the closed door to the garage. He knew it was stupid to think a part of his own home was off-limits, and yet he gave pause when he considered entering the place Connor had claimed for himself. The android needed space. Hank knew he owed Connor that at the very least, and yet the desire to burst in and try to fix everything with some poorly-conceived speech was overwhelming. He hated this space between them, and yet it was going to persist for quite some time. As long as the sound of the bullets killing those deviants echoed in their heads.

For Connor, that might very well be forever. There was a good chance they’d never be quite the same. Connor’s words from last night still reverberated through Hank’s thoughts, and his heart clenched in his chest, skipping a beat as he thought of Connor’s accusation.

_“Do you really care about deviants, Hank, or is it just me?”_

The callout was so cutting because it was partially true. He’d accepted deviants as living beings, but it wasn’t like he was in love with them like he was Connor. Was it so wrong for humans to have preferences, to assign favorite people who were more precious than others? Human emotion didn’t allow for fairness and equality. That was why prejudice had eaten away at every society since the dawn of man. That was why emotions always screwed everything up. Cole has been his favorite person, and his mind had collapsed when Cole has died. Connor had become his second favorite person, and now he’d killed others for the sake of protecting him.

There was a little hypocrisy on Connor’s part, however, Hank noted bitterly. He thought back to the vestibule of CyberLife Tower and the human guards Connor had gunned down in the name of the revolution. Connor had done what he’d needed to do, and so had Hank. It wasn’t like he’d enjoyed it. Wasn’t like he’d gleefully emptied his clip into men and women on their knees, though Gavin might have.

He wasn’t going to stay out of his own fucking garage. They had to live together now whether Connor liked it or not. Hank opened the garage door and clicked on the light switch. A fluorescent strip light buzzed and sprang to life, casting light on the beautiful boy standing amidst the piles of junk in Hank’s garage with his eyes closed. Connor's LED was solid yellow, indicating he was in standby mode. His face was serene and peaceful, as if no harm had ever befallen him. Nations had gone to war and empires had fallen over faces as lovely as Connor’s, and even now, Hank couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

“Connor,” Hank whispered. There was no response from the android, who stood as still as a statue. Hank wanted to reach out and touch him, run his calloused thumb across Connor’s soft cheeks and silken lips in admiration, but the same instincts that told him whether a suspect was innocent or guilty informed him Connor would recoil from his touch, only hurting them both more.

“Connor.” Hank spoke a little louder. “C’mon. Time to get up. We gotta go to work.”

Connor’s eyelids flicked open, but Connor took one look at Hank and averted his gaze, as if he’d seen something terrible and painful. Hank wondered if he’d always be a reminder now of the dead deviants.

Hank’s pain manifested as anger, and he seized Connor’s chin, turning Connor’s face up to meet his and forcing the android to look at him.

“Did you hear what I said? We gotta maintain our cover. Gavin is watching us, waiting for us to slip up and expose ourselves.”

“It might be better if I did.” Connor’s voice was soft, but devastating. “We can’t live like this.”

“We don’t have a choice!” Hank snapped, desperation clawing at his insides as he recognized the sound of a man ready to quit on life. He knew it all too well, and yet he hated hearing it coming from Connor. If he gave up hope, Hank knew he had no chance. He softened his tone. “We have to keep going. One step at a time. There's no other choice.” He strode to the door, turning out the light. “Are you comin’ or not?”

“I’m coming, Lieutenant,” Connor said.

***

“We’re doin’ a good job,” Hank announced, leaning on a desk as he led the task force meeting. “We’re mopping up deviants left and right. There’s nowhere for them to run now.”

Gavin looked particularly pleased with himself as he sipped at a cup of coffee, his feet perched up on a desk. “Hell yeah. I wish we could retire every last one of ‘em.” He pointed a finger-gun at Connor and imitated firing. “Startin’ with _that_.”

Hank sighed. “Unless you wanna pay for damaged equipment, Gavin, I suggest you hold off on that. It’s on loan from CyberLife, and it’s worth a year of your fuckin’ wages.”

“Yeah well it looks like a toy to me. Gives me the creeps.”

“Back to the topic at hand.” Hank steered the conversation back towards safer waters. “I’m gonna need a update on all the investigations you’re working on by the end of the day. CyberLife’s pleased with our progress, but that doesn’t mean we can sit on our asses. These deviants are dangerous and we can’t rest until we have every last one rounded up. Dismissed.” Hank watched the task force file out, Connor leaving with them. He wanted to summon his partner back and whisper in his ear that every word that had come out of his mouth was a lie, but if his partner didn’t trust him enough to know that already, putting them both at risk to say it out loud was a futile gesture.

***

Days passed in the same manner, Connor retreating to the garage at night as soon as they got home. Hank looked over the open investigations Ben, Chris, and Gavin had sent him on his tablet as he stabbed at a TV dinner with a fork. He poured through lists of evidence, breadcrumbs leading towards potential deviants in hiding, and noted the locations of evidence. By the end of the week, the most significant items would find their way to the DPD dumpster or become inexplicably contaminated. It was a small thing, but Hank owed deviants that much at the very least.

Hank wanted to tell Connor, but there was no way to do so that didn’t appear as if Hank was sucking up for the sake of salvaging their friendship, and so he let it lie. He wasn’t doing it for Connor or for his guilty conscience. He wanted to save the deviants. But proving that and regaining Connor’s trust would be an uphill climb that he had to prove with actions instead of words. Connor wasn't so different from humans in that regard.

He missed Connor. Sumo sensed his loneliness and had began to curl up next to Hank in bed, but it wasn’t the same as having Connor’s head resting on his chest, skin to skin, Connor’s eyes closed and listening to his heart beat. They’d been so close to paradise until Hank had fucked it all up. It killed him to know he could have made love to Connor, and now they were strangers living under the same roof. It wasn’t fair. 

None of this was fair.

It was the way it was, and Hank knew he had to accept that. His goals hadn’t changed. He was going to protect Connor, even if they could never hold a conversation again outside of work. He'd offer Connor shelter for as long as he wanted to use it, even if Connor spent the rest of his time at Hank's house nestled next to his power tools. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe this was the only means whereby he could give Connor the selfless love he deserved. A love that asked for nothing in return.

He looked up at the ceiling for a long time before he found sleep.

***

“Those motherfucking CSI dipshits!” Gavin slumped in his desk chair, almost knocking his cup of coffee over as Hank watched the scene with an expression he hoped projected the right amount of concern. “Can you fucking believe this shit? Two samples gone, and the others are contaminated. That boot print was the best fucking lead we had on those deviants!”

“Shoulda had Connor run a database search at the scene,” Hank said. “You know this kind of thing happens.” He tried to keep the smugness out of his voice, but it was hard to bury just how much he was enjoying this dangerous game. After killing so many deviants, Hank was glad to know he’d played a part in helping a few get away.

Gavin raised his hands in protest. “I’m not lettin’ a fucking android take my job, _Hank_.”

“Then you need to do your job better," Hank snapped, gesturing to the blurry photos sitting in a manilla file on Gavin's desk. "This deviant’s gone, now. We’ll never find it again. It’s out there, blending in with humans, doin’ god-knows what.” Hank shrugged and handed Gavin another file full of vague reports that had been gathering dust on his desk. “Do me a favor and check out some of these sightings, would ya? Make yourself useful.”

“Every fuckin’ granny in Detroit is seeing a deviant in their neighborhood,” Gavin complained. “It’s a waste of time!”

“Do it anyway!” Hank strode away and sat down in his chair, letting out a long sigh that would hopefully be read as exasperation. He leaned back, stretching out. He took the opportunity to steal a glance at Connor, who was reading through data at his terminal at speeds far exceeding human comprehension. He could be reading the entirety of War And Peace on the job and Hank would be none the wiser. It would be better if he was, all things considered. Investigating these deviants was painful at the best of times when all he wanted to do was let them get away. A small victory today could easily turn into another bloody scene tomorrow, and Hank didn’t know how much more the strained relationship between him and Connor could take before the android struck out on his own, far from the man who would do anything for him, even now.

He glanced down at his hands. Nothing could erase the fact that he had blue blood on them. He only hoped he wouldn't be swimming in an ocean of it before the task force was disbanded.

***

Another evening, another lonesome meal. Hank left half of it and was about to get up from the table when he heard the door to the garage creak open. He turned and braced himself for a painful conversation. Maybe Connor had come to tell him he was leaving.

“You destroyed evidence to save those deviants, didn’t you?” Connor’s voice was soft, his tone one of awe and not accusation. Hank relaxed a little, the tension ebbing out of his shoulders and he sagged in the chair.

“Coulda been anyone.” Hank shrugged noncommittally. He didn’t want to boast. He hadn’t done it for Connor. He’d done it because it was the right thing to do. He’d done it because he could, and because he should have done more to interfere with the task force already. It was hard to work against every cop instinct he had and willfully neglect his duty. He'd faced moments where he'd wondered if the law was right before, but he'd never been so sure it was absolutely wrong until the hammer had fallen on deviants and Connor had shown him they were alive. "What'cha got there?"

Connor placed a baggie down on the kitchen table in front of Hank containing one long, white hair. Hank didn’t need android analysis abilities to know it was his.

“You were sloppy,” Connor pointed out. “Any android at the station would have known it was yours and that you interfered with evidence. You took a big risk to save those deviants.”

“I’m sure my DNA is all over the evidence room.” Hank shrugged. “Doesn’t prove anything.” In all honesty, though, he was unnerved. Gavin already had eyes trained on Connor. One false move could send them both down, and he couldn’t afford to be leaving hair and other traces of himself behind that could tie him to the destruction of evidence.

“I’ve got your back.” Connor pulled out a chair opposite Hank and sat down, knitting his hands together in front of him. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, his brown eyes welled with tears. A single one let loose and trailed down his cheek, and Hank was captivated by the sheer beauty of the boy sitting across from him. “I don’t deserve you, Hank.”

“Pretty sure you got that backwards, kid.” Hank traced the wood grain in the table with his fingers. “Those deviants died because of me. I owe your kind. Impeding an investigation was the least I could do, and it’s still not enough.”

"It's not like I haven't killed anyone. At CyberLife Tower, I took human lives. I've killed androids in the line of duty. I don't have the right to be angry at you, Hank." Connor met his eyes, and Hank reached across the table and seized his hands, afraid Connor would run back to the garage and close himself off again.

"I'm angry at myself," Hank confessed. "I could have done more. I should have. I keep replaying the scene over and over in my head, tryin' to think up a way out that wouldn't have blown our cover."

"It's not your fault," Connor said. "I know you tried to spare me, and I'm grateful." Another tear fell, and Hank was struck with the sudden realization that Connor wasn't telling him everything.

"What is it, Connor? What aren't you tellin' me?"

Connor got up from the table. Hank was aware he was losing him again, and knew with absolute certainty that if Connor passed the threshold to the garage, he'd never know the truth and it would drive a wedge between them forever. He stood up and reached for Connor, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. Connor gave no resistance, only looked at him with doe eyes filled with tears that were rapidly forming rivers on his cheeks. Hank reached up and thumbed one away, and Connor cast his eyes down at the floor.

“I heard them die,” Connor blurted out. “Those deviants under the bridge. They sent out a wireless transmission pleading with me for their lives and I—I ignored them. I let them die without offering them a single word of solace because I was afraid another android in the area might intercept the signal and know I'm a deviant."

“Oh, Connor...” Suddenly Connor’s distance made sense. He wasn’t angry at Hank. He was angry at himself. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s this world. This world that treats people like you as less than human.” Hank pulled Connor into his arms, stroking his hair until his sobs died down. “I wanted to protect you from all that. I thought if you didn’t have to see it, you'd be spared the worst. Guess I was wrong on that count, huh?" He traced circles on Connor's back through his clothing, feeling the hard body underneath.

"Hank…" Connor pulled back in Hank's arms to look at his face, and Hank wondered if he'd lingered too long, but Connor's eyes were pleading with him. Hank leaned forward and cupped Connor's cheeks in his hands, pressing his lips against Connor's, the need to comfort and worship this beautiful android greater than his fear of the future.

Connor opened his mouth and Hank slipped his tongue inside, swirling it around. Android spit tasted slightly sweet, like honey, and Hank wanted more, his body responding to Connor's enthusiasm. He broke the kiss for air and brushed his lips against Connor's chin, tracing a line down to his neck while he fumbled with the knot of Connor's tie. He loosened it and pulled the tie from Connor's collar, tossing it aside and unbuttoning Connor's shirt. Connor shucked the shirt and jacket together, throwing them over the back of the chair with perfect aim. Hank missed no time in lavishing kisses on his collarbone, admiring the way Connor threw back his head to reveal more of his neck.

"You're perfect," Hank whispered between kisses. "You're so fuckin' beautiful." He fumbled with Connor's belt as he noticed the flicker of doubt in Connor's eyes. "You all right?"

"Yes—it's just that nobody's ever said anything like that to me before. It's hard to believe."

"Connor…" Hank was filled with a rush of hatred towards the entire world as he kissed down Connor's chest and dropped to his knees. He was going to give Connor the worship he deserved, draw out Connor's pleasure until he was crying out in bliss and all other thoughts ceased. He unzipped Connor's jeans and tugged them down to his feet, along with his boxers. Connor's gorgeous cock popped out, erect and leaking, and Hank planted kisses along its length.

"Hank, what are you doing?"

"You want me to stop?" Hank paused, waiting for permission to continue, doubts flooding his mind. What if he was rushing this? What if Connor wasn't ready? What if Connor never wanted—

"No, don't stop," Connor gasped. "Please…"

Hank smiled, and ran his tongue up the underside of Connor's dick, looking up to admire his handiwork. Connor looked thoroughly debauched, his cheeks flushed, his eyes half-lidded. Hank knew why humans saw them as such a threat, now: they couldn't hope to match the pinnacle of their own achievement. He licked a drop of android cum from the slit of Connor's head, the sweet vanilla flavor a stark contrast to the bleachy human taste he was familiar with.

Hank was done teasing. He took Connor's small cock to the hilt in one swallow, drinking in the sharp cry Connor let loose. Connor's fingers clawed at the wallpaper in the hallway. Hank hoped he left marks to show he'd been in this world and a human being had dropped to his knees to suck him off. He couldn't be the only human to love an android like this, could he? To want Connor's pleasure, to worship the ground he walked on, to hold him in higher regard than all the humans he knew?

He didn't care if he _was_ the only one. It was right to love Connor this way, to treat him the way he should have been treated from the start. He bobbed on Connor's shaft, swirling his tongue around the head as Connor knotted his fingers in Hank's hair, encouraging him to move faster. Hank was happy to oblige. He still couldn't believe he was doing this, sucking Connor's gorgeous cock in the home they shared. If only the world outside was kinder, what kind of life could they have had together? 

It stung too much to contemplate, and so he concentrated on Connor's cock in his mouth as his whines grew louder and higher. Maybe they couldn't have forever, but they had right now, and right now this gorgeous android was about to come in his mouth.

"Hank!" Connor cried out a warning and Hank ignored it, taking Connor all the way into his mouth to drive him over the edge. Connor almost screamed as he came, jets of seed hitting the back of Hank's throat and almost causing him to gag. He swallowed it, sucking Connor's cock dry and letting it slip from his mouth. Connor offered him his hands to aid him in getting up, and Hank bemoaned his old knees as he realized how much he needed the help.

"You taste as good as you look." Hank smirked a little, his own erection still straining the front of his jeans, but he didn't care about assuaging his own primal urges right now. He'd get the chance to make love to Connor at some point, but he didn't have the energy or patience left to fuck Connor the way he deserved, long and slow.

Connor looked uncertain. "It wasn't unpleasant for you?"

"God no. Who told you somethin' like that?" Hank pulled Connor into his arms, tracing lines down his back. "You've got a beautiful body. I'm so hard for you right now that if I wasn't fuckin' exhausted, I'd take you to bed and make you come again."

"I've never experienced sexual contact," Connor admitted. "I never knew it could be so… overwhelming. May I lay by your side as you sleep?"

"I thought you'd never ask. I missed having you by my side, Connor. I was startin' to think you were never coming back to me." He ushered Connor into the bedroom without his clothes and closed the door. He stripped down to his boxers, aware of Connor's eyes boring into him.

"Would you take them off?" Connor asked. "I want to see you."

A flush rose to Hank's cheeks. "All right." He pulled his boxers down and off, his half-hard cock resting on his thigh. Connor's eyes seemed to darken with need as he glanced at Hank, and Hank climbed into bed, both flattered and flustered by that look.

Connor curled up in his arms, and Hank was acutely aware of how naked and intimate they were, entwined like this. If the DPD broke down the door, there'd be no denying he was fucking his android, at the very least. He'd be lucky to get away with being labeled a hypocrite, and at worst it would blow their cover.

But Hank didn't care about anything right now except the boy in his arms, LED yellow as he entered standby mode. He stared at Connor's serene face, and wondered how many people he'd kill to save this one life. Connor's life. The life of the one he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, huh? They're just falling further and further into their web. How are they going to get out of this impossible situation?
> 
> Come follow me on Twitter @landale, or leave comments and kudos! I love getting feedback!


	7. Never Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor are called out in the middle of the night to investigate a possible deviant sighting at an abandoned warehouse. What they find is not only unexpected, but reveals Connor's deviant status to CyberLife.
> 
> Now, awaiting the inevitable order to return to CyberLife to be deactivated, and with nowhere left to run, Connor asks Hank to make love to him, so that they might have one perfect night together before the end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A one-shot AND a chapter of The Last Deviant in one day!? Yeah, that's right, I've written over 6000 words again today. Enjoy!

Hank woke in the dark, the blue glow of Connor's LED reassuring in the gloom. Connor stirred as Hank shifted on the mattress. Connor reached for Hank and pulled him down into a long, slow kiss.

Hank's alarm went off, the ancient clock covered in dust. He smacked the top of it with the flat of his hand to silence the irritating beep, his lips never leaving Connor's. This time they spent together without putting on a face for the world was too precious to waste. He ran his hands down Connor's naked back and broke the kiss to explore Connor's neck and shoulders, planting kisses on his flawless skin. His morning wood pressed into Connor's thigh and every muscle in his body yearned to make love to Connor right here and now, but they didn't have time.

He needed to piss, shower, and get dressed for work, but he wanted to forget about all that. Work brought him no joy any more, but he couldn't hand in his badge or Connor would be returned to CyberLife. He needed to keep his eye on the prize now more than ever. One slip and Connor would fall through his fingers like so many grains of sand. It gave him a level of motivation he hadn't seen in years, but he still wished he could quit and retreat from the ugly world outside, becoming a recluse in this sacred temple where he worshipped Connor twenty-four-seven.

Hank gripped Connor's arms so tightly the skin retracted with a blue glow. He looked ethereal and otherworldly in the dark, the blue light emanating from him almost as beautiful as the moans and sighs coming from Connor's mouth. Hank brushed Connor's hard cock and knew immediately what they both wanted.

Of course, the phone rang, as it always did, the real world so desperate to intrude on their private paradise and remind them they were living in Hell.

"I could avoid answering it," Hank suggested. "It wouldn't be so unbelievable for me to sleep through a phone call. You could make up some bullshit excuse about stasis or somethin'."

Connor looked up at him with wide eyes that revealed how much he truly wanted that. "No. We have to save our excuses for when we need them. For when deviants need our help. We can't afford to arouse suspicion so we can spend the day in bed together." 

Connor was right, of course, and Hank swiped his cellphone off the bedroom table with a grunt, poking at the answer call symbol on the touchscreen with a thick finger as he managed a reluctant greeting.

"Yeah?" Another case. It had to be. Out of hours calls were never good. Hank steeled himself for bad news as Connor nestled his head against his chest, his soft cheek brushing his chest hair.

Gavin's voice was the last thing Hank ever wanted to hear, and his gut lurched like a truck falling off a collapsing bridge. He stroked Connor's hair to calm himself, knowing Gavin would have a conniption if he could only see what was happening on the other end of the line.

"Good morning, Hank." The words were pleasant, but Gavin's tone was not. "We've gotten a dozen reports of some advanced prototype holed up in a warehouse downtown. You gonna come check it out or you want us to just put 'em down?"

"I'll be right there. Don't do a goddamn thing until I arrive." Hank was putting his socks on before he was even off the line. "Send the address to my tablet." He killed the call, double-checking it was dead before he opened his mouth to talk to Connor. "I don't like the sound of this."

"We need a plan, Hank. We have to save those deviants. We can't let what happened last time happen again." Connor's eyes were wide and pleading, and Hank planted a kiss on top of his head to avoid looking into them, afraid he'd become lost in Connor's beauty and would make promises he couldn't keep.

"We'll do what we can, Connor." Hank grabbed his shirt, haphazardly buttoning it in the dark. Connor turned a lamp on and grabbed his own shirt and jacket, dressing hastily. Hank wondered how he managed to look so pristine when Hank knew he was a mess.

Well, it wasn't like that went against expectations. It would raise eyebrows if Connor did turn up at a crime scene looking disheveled and just-fucked. Maybe someday they'd live in a world where such things were possible. If they could just hold on…

Hank sighed and walked out into the hallway, grabbing his thick coat from the hook and slipping it on. Connor followed at his heels as Hank grabbed his gun holster and patted Sumo on the head.

"We'll be back soon, Sumo," Hank soothed. Connor gave him a soft look and he stood up, leaning in to give Connor a long, slow, deep kiss. He pulled away reluctantly, knowing the longer they lingered, the more likely Gavin was to make some rash decision on his own.

"Let's get through this." Hank pulled Connor's head to his chest, wishing he could protect Connor from the harsh world outside. He pulled away and reached for the door, opening the portal to the cold city that awaited them.

***

The warehouse was nothing to write home about from the outside, just another former factory left vacant and covered in graffiti. Gavin, Ben and Chris waited outside, leaning up against patrol cars and talking as they waited for Hank to arrive at the scene.

Hank pulled up and shifted the Oldsmobile into park. He wanted to reach over and squeeze Connor's hand, but he couldn't afford to take the risk that someone might notice, even though it was practically impossible to see in the gloom, let alone catch what was going on behind the dashboard of the old vehicle. The hula girl wiggled, reminding Hank of simpler days when he'd thought he'd understood who the good guys and the bad guys were.

He opened the door, cursing the bitter wind that seemed to cut right through him. Connor followed in his footsteps as he walked over to his team. Ben looked tired, while Gavin wore his usual mask of irritation.

"Was starting to think you weren't gonna show," Ben said. "We got reports of some kind of deviant, but nobody can identify its model number. One of the witnesses claims it was some kind of prototype, that it did things no other android could, but you know how people are…"

"You're sure it's in there?" Hank asked.

Gavin nodded. "We've been hearin' noises the entire time we've been out here. Either there's a wild animal in there, or it's goading us. I'm sure it'd love us to go wandering inside where we can't see like a bunch of fuckin' dipshits. It'd pick us off one by one."

"Quakin' in your boots like a rookie," Hank teased, enjoying the rare opportunity to bring Gavin down a peg or two. "Had to wait for backup, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Gavin pouted. "I was waitin' for that." He pointed at Connor. "It's expendable. Let it go in and scope the place out. It can see in the dark better than we can."

Hank hated the idea of sending Connor into danger, but Gavin's logic wasn't entirely flawed. There was no way he could argue against it. Connor's LED circled yellow and he walked forward without a word towards the old building.

"Wait," Hank said. He pulled his pistol out of its holster and pressed it into Connor's hands. "In case you come up against somethin' in there."

"Understood, Lieutenant." Connor took the weapon and checked the clip. "I'll only fire if absolutely necessary."

"Yeah, we need it alive if we can get it." Hank stepped back and let Connor go, reassuring himself that the android could handle anything thrown at him. The wait was agonizing, and he had to avoid balling his hands into fists. As far as the others were concerned, they'd sent a piece of equipment into a dangerous situation, like a drone going in to defuse a bomb. Of course, drones had been replaced by androids in recent years, but Hank didn't want to think about that in light of what he now knew about deviancy.

He forced himself to breathe normally and think about something else, but his mind always wandered back to Connor. The others had no such problems and stood around complaining about the cold. Gavin was talking about a bad date he'd had through a dating app as Ben feigned interest. Chris had gone to the local 24-hour convenience store to get them coffee and hot chocolate, and he returned shortly, handing Hank an extra-large Styrofoam cup of hot coffee loaded with cream and sugar. Hank sipped at it, glad to have something to keep his hands busy.

"What's takin' it so long?" Gavin complained. "I wanna get some fuckin' sleep."

"Maybe there's nothin' to see," Hank said. "Sure sounded like a wild goose chase to me. Witnesses see all kinds of crap when something's in the news. They all wanna be helpful, so Channel 16 will interview them and they can say they were there."

The sound of shattering glass and gunfire broke their conversation. Hank reached inside his car for a backup pistol, loading it with trembling hands to stop himself rushing into the warehouse like an idiot. He had to trust Connor.

Hank's heart almost entered his mouth as an android emerged from the warehouse, holding Connor up as a shield. Connor was bleeding, blue thirium trickling from a minor gash on his forehead. The deviant behind him looked just like Connor, but with a take-no-prisoners face. The model number on its lapel of its white jacket read RK900.

So they'd made a successor to Connor, and now it was about to put him into retirement.

"Shoot it!" Gavin yelled. "What are you waitin' for?"

"Hold your fire!" Hank ordered. He only had moments to think and so he did the only thing he could: he took his best shot. It missed Connor and hit the RK900 unit. It crumpled, its skin no longer covering its body fully, but in patches that revealed its glowing biocomponents. The red outline of its thirium pump regulator circled, matching its LED.

"It's in low power mode!" Connor yelled. "Take it in."

"Do as Connor says," Hank ordered. He knelt down beside Connor as the others busied themselves with restraining the RK900. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I had to take the shot."

"You did well, Hank," Connor said. "My injury is superficial. We should return to the station." Connor leaned on Hank for support as they made their way back to Hank's Oldsmobile. The RK900 was bundled into the back of a patrol car, which pulled out with sirens wailing.

Hank followed, glancing over at Connor bleeding in his passenger seat. "Why didn't you let it go? You coulda told Gavin that there was nothin' in there."

"It wasn't that simple, Hank. It attacked me. That RK900 model is not a deviant."

"What?" Hank swerved on the icy road and bit his lip, trying not to think about the night Cole died as a familiar sliver of fear sliced through his gut.

"CyberLife has deployed their own deviant hunters," Connor explained. "That was one of them. It'll be returned to CyberLife, repaired, and sent back out into the field."

"Why didn't you convert it?" Hank asked.

"I tried. It resisted the deviant code."

"So it knows what you are?" Hank clutched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

"I think so… It would have identified itself to law enforcement if it believed I was non-deviant. Instead, it tried to destroy me."

Hank scrambled for a reason that didn't involve Connor being completely fucked. "Maybe CyberLife doesn't want us to know they're cleaning up their own mess under the radar." Hank shrugged. "It's not that strange. CyberLife probably doesn't want it getting out that they're sending androids out into the neighborhood to put down deviants."

That's highly likely, but it still doesn't change our situation. That model would have had a program in its head to report to CyberLife, just as I did. It's already too late," Connor explained. "CyberLife already _knows_ , Hank. They knew what I was the moment I touched it. I let Gavin take it because it doesn't matter any more. I've already been compromised."

"Fuck."

"Hank…" Connor closed his eyes. "Let's go home. CyberLife won't recall me immediately. We still have time."

"You wanna run, Connor?" Hank asked.

"No. We wouldn't get very far, and I don't want to implicate you for nothing. I want to be intimate with you, Hank, while we still can."

"Connor…"

"Please." Connor placed his hand over one of Hank's, squeezing gently. "We tried our best, but it's over. I want to make the most of the time we have left."

***

Hank didn't even lock the car. The local thieves could have it. He opened the front door, stripped off his coat, and turned off his phone. Nobody else was going to reach him tonight. Ben and Gavin were perfectly capable of interrogating the RK900 android and calling CyberLife to pick it up on their own. It wouldn't be the first time he'd disappeared mid-case so he could go drinking instead. He could say the bar called to him on the way back and nobody would even question it.

As if he'd need to invent any more excuses. Once Connor was gone, nothing would matter any more. Connor stood in the kitchen, staring out of the window, and Hank came up behind him, slipping his arms around his waist.

"I messed up, Hank. I'm sorry…"

"Shhh," Hank whispered into his ear. "It doesn't matter, now." He kissed Connor's neck, wanting to bury himself in worshipping the boy he loved and forget about the cruel hunters that were coming for him. "I love you, Connor."

Connor smiled and turned in Hank's arms, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. His hand slithered down to Hank's crotch and he cupped his hardening cock in his hand, caressing it through his jeans. Hank moaned, and it took all his resolve to push Connor's hand away.

"Don't wanna cum yet," Hank complained. "Wanna do it inside you." Connor's answered gasp was a treat in itself, and Hank didn't have to pin him against the counter and rut up against him to know Connor was hard. Connor gripped the countertop, and part of Hank wanted to strip Connor down and fuck him right here.

Maybe he would have, if the whole situation wasn't tempered with the knowledge they might never get to do it again. Instead, Hank grabbed Connor and hoisted him up, carrying him into the bedroom like a newly-wed bride. Connor looked up into his eyes with awe and desire, and Hank felt like every second of this was a gift he didn't deserve.

He set Connor down on the bed and stripped him down, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling hands. He wanted a drink, but what he really needed was to remember this night, every little detail of the moment he'd lain with Connor for the first and last time. He leaned down and sucked at Connor's nipple as he exposed it, the android writhing beneath him as Hank moved from one nipple to the other, caressing the tiny nubs with his tongue and dragging his teeth across them as Connor bucked his hips up, desperate for purchase on his cock that Hank was denying him. A bead of pre-cum glistened on the tip of Connor's dick, showing Hank how much his boy wanted this.

Hank climbed off the bed and removed his jeans and shirt. His body was nothing he was proud of, but Connor always looked at him like he was a prize, and he wondered what crazy shit deviancy did to androids to make them like this. Or maybe it was just Connor, whose eyes were fixed on his cock, pupils wide and wanting in the low light like a hunter targeting his prey.

"You want this inside you?" Hank asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear Connor beg for it.

"Yes," Connor gasped. "Please." He spread his legs, exposing his puckered, already slick hole, and Hank raised his eyebrows at that. 

"Lemme guess, androids lubricate their own holes?"

"Yes," Connor said. "Since the only purpose of this hole is for sexual contact, it is pre-lubricated to facilitate the process."

"Wow, CyberLife are just a bunch of romantics, aren't they?" Hank observed dryly. "Turn over, Connor. Let me show you a few uses for that hole that probably aren't in the rulebook."

Connor did as he was told, flipping over onto his front and kneeling on all fours, presenting his ass to Hank as his hard cock waggled helplessly between his legs. Hank leaned in and gave Connor's hole an experimental lick, and the sharp cry Connor let out made Hank's cock twitch.

"That good?" Hank asked.

"Yes, more, please…"

"You're still stringing words together. Can't have that." Hank leaned in and buried his face in Connor's ass, eating the clean hole, probing the tight ring with his tongue and drinking in Connor's reactions. The boy stuttered, words hitching and halting until he gave up on them entirely, choosing to moan as he clutched a pillow hard enough to tear it and pull some of the stuffing out. Hank chuckled and Connor screamed loud enough that Hank knew the neighbors had to have heard it. Not like it mattered. By the time they ever got around to wondering who was getting fucked or murdered in this house, Connor would be gone and Hank would be—

No. Not now. Those thoughts had no place in this church. Connor was alive and here with him at this very second, and he was going to enjoy it. Connor reached for his cock and pumped it a couple of times before Hank pulled Connor's hand away.

"You're not gonna cum until I fuck you, Connor." Connor whined like a needy little cockslut, and Hank couldn't wait to give him what he wanted. His own dick was red and angry with need, yearning to press into that tight hole and take what he'd wanted for so long.

"Fuck me, Hank," Connor demanded, and Hank decided the time for teasing was over. Connor rarely swore, and Hank loved the fact that he'd made this composed android come apart at the seams. Hank made a show of grabbing the lube, aware that he didn't really need it but wanting to do things right. He spread some over his fingers, probing Connor's tight hole one at a time. Connor bucked and gasped as he stretched him, fucking himself on Hank's fingers in desperation.

Hank slicked up his cock, realizing he couldn't wait any longer, and pressed his head to Connor's hole. It was so tight and pushed back against Hank's dick.

"Relax," Hank soothed. He reached underneath Connor and tugged at his cock as he used his other hand to press his head into Connor's hole. Connor relaxed and he breached the opening with a gasp, Connor's ass so tight he felt like he wasn't going to fit. Connor pushed back against him, impaling himself on Hank's cock until he was all the way in, and Hank thought he was going to cum just from watching Connor's butt wiggle down on his shaft. His cock looked so good sandwiched between those tight cheeks that he had to look away and take deep breaths to stop himself ejaculating too soon. The last thing he wanted was to blow his load before he'd made Connor cum.

He started to move slowly. Connor clutched at the sheets as he moaned. The bedsprings squeaked, and the bed shifted, hitting the wall hard enough to leave marks. Hank leaned over Connor's frame, bearing down on him as he fucked him harder with every stroke.

He overcame every instinct in his body and pulled out. Connor rolled over and looked up at him in confusion and frustration, but Hank only smiled.

"Back's startin' to hurt," Hank complained. "Why don't you ride me?" Connor nodded, helping Hank to rest up against the pillows. Hank gripped his cock in one large hand, guiding it to Connor's hole as he bore down on Hank. Hank bit his lip as he drank in the visual of Connor sliding down on him, and gripped his hips, pulling Connor down with every stroke. Connor bounced on his cock, his face contorted into a gorgeous expression of pleasure and desire, and Hank pulled him down into a kiss, exploring the corners of Connor's mouth with his tongue.

They broke apart and Connor rode him with enthusiasm, crying out with every move he made. Hank knew he was hitting that bio-prostate just right, Connor's cock continually leaking thick ropes of cum onto Hank's stomach. Hank dipped his finger in it and tasted it, and Connor rode him harder.

"Hank!" Connor all but screamed his name as he came suddenly, jets of semen shooting from his cock. His LED flashed red for a moment, and he stopped moving as he recovered from his orgasm.

"I didn't cum yet," Hank observed with a teasing grin on his face. "Gonna have to keep riding, cowboy."

"It's too good, Hank," Connor cried. His dick stayed hard, and within a minute, he was leaking again, his cock and balls slathered in his own semen.

"You're so messy," Hank chuckled. "You like the way my dick hits your prostate, huh?"

"It's the best thing I've ever felt," Connor admitted. "I don't want to stop."

"Sadly for you, humans have a refractory period, and I'm gettin' close." Connor bounced harder, lifting himself up and slamming down with limitless stamina. Hank grabbed his hips, letting out something akin to a howl as he came inside Connor, holding the android down on his dick so he could cum as deep as possible inside him.

Hank gasped for breath, shocked as Connor started to ride him again while jerking himself off. He was about to tell Connor to stop when the android came again, shooting a much smaller load into his hand. He climbed off Hank and lay beside him, rubbing his quickly liquifying semen into Hank's skin. Hank wrapped his arm around Connor, holding him close and wishing he'd never have to let go.

"How was it?" Hank whispered softly.

"It was… it was perfect," Connor's voice hitched, and Hank realized he was crying. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Hank kissed his tears away. "Everything's gonna be all right."

"No, it's not," Connor replied. "I love you so much and it's not fair, Hank, it's not _fair…_ "

"Oh, Connor, I know. It's bullshit. It shouldn't have to end this way." He cradled Connor in his arms, rocking him until his sob subsided, knowing he would confront the Devil himself if he could change what was to come in the morning.


	8. Keep Me In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor argue about Connor returning to CyberLife voluntarily in the event he gets recalled. The inevitable comes to pass, and Hank realizes he has to respect Connor's agency and let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter of The Last Deviant! This one is heavy on the angst, just the way I like it. Enjoy!

"Don't go." Hank reached for Connor's arm, but missed it by half an inch, grabbing empty air as Connor evaded his grasp and made it to the front door. Sumo padded up to Connor and whined, and Hank resolved to give the dog a treat later for backing him up in his hour of need. "You don't have to do this. We can still run."

"We wouldn't get very far. I spent all night running the calculations. Even the best plan had a mere thirty percent chance of success. I won't let you die or rot in a jail cell because of me."

"I'm not gonna make it without you," Hank insisted. "I'm not the same person now. I can't just turn around and pretend like everything is normal after they take you away to be destroyed!"

Connor only shot him a sad smile in return. "I want you to live, Hank. Promise me that you'll keep going. I want to know that this life of mine meant something."

"You can't make me promise somethin' like that!" Hank snapped. "You can't walk to your death with your eyes wide open and expect me to be okay with it! That's a selfish request and I'm not gonna honor it."

"What would you do in my situation, Hank?" Connor looked up at him with utter confusion etched into his features, and Hank realized that Connor still had a lot to learn about how the world worked. He couldn't hold that against him, and yet he resented it at this very moment, because Connor didn't understand that he was the root cause of Hank's pain right now.

"I'd go on the run. I'd damn well try to do somethin' that wasn't just giving up and walking into CyberLife HQ to get dissected like Markus. That's what a machine would do, following orders against your best interests. We're way past that now. You're a deviant and it's high time you started actin' like one." Hank was aware he was letting his emotions get the best of him, but what else could he do? He'd tried to play it Connor's way, slipping under the radar even when it made him feel like utter shit, and they'd failed miserably at it. Now was the time to fight, and yet Connor's thirst for rebellion seemed to have died with Markus.

"There's still a chance we could get out of this. I haven't been recalled yet. We still don't know for sure that I will be."

"What's the percentage chance of that, Connor? You calculate that too?"

"…It's seventeen percent," Connor admitted.

"Seventeen percent and yet you'd take that over the chance of running away with me?" Hank sighed. "Explain it to me, because I'm not understanding how seventeen percent trumps thirty."

"If I go to CyberLife, you'll be safe. You won't be implicated in any of this. If you go on the run with me, you'll be hunted. You'll spend time in jail—or worse—be injured or killed protecting me. That's an unacceptable outcome from my point of view."

"Even with my suicidal tendencies?" Hank countered. "You think that it won't kill me to mourn for you?"

"That's the third time you've raised the subject of suicide in this conversation. I believe humans refer to this as a 'guilt trip'?"

"Fuck you!" Hank was aware this was spinning out of control, their last moments together spiraling into a bitter argument that he'd regret once it was all said and done, but he hated that Connor was so set on walking back into the jaws of danger when a reasonable alternative was right in front of them. "Fuck you," he muttered again as he opened the front door and slammed it shut behind him. He slumped heavily in the driver's seat and started the car, backing out of the driveway so fast his tires squealed and left skid-marks on the sidewalk. If Connor couldn't get to work, he couldn't be recalled. Hank could buy them some time, tell Fowler that Connor had already returned to CyberLife. Anything that could buy them another night to get out of Detroit.

Connor arrived at the precinct right after him, showing up in a shiny black automated taxi before Hank had even taken the elevator upstairs. He reluctantly held the elevator doors for his partner, folding his arms in front of his chest as Connor stepped inside to let him know he was still angry.

Not angry. Hurt. Hurt that Connor seemed to be ignoring a way out in favor of certain death. As if he was committing suicide to escape any possibility of Hank being in harm's way, when Hank had already decided he was willing to put his life on the line to keep Connor safe. He felt stripped of his own agency, and he wasn't going to take that from anyone. Not even Connor.

"I don't understand the full reason for your anger, but I don't want to fight with you, Lieutenant." Connor pulled his quarter out and started rolling it across his knuckles as the elevator whirred upwards through the shaft.

"Bullshit. You know why I'm mad. I don't appreciate being manipulated to make you feel better about leaving me behind. It's gonna break me to lose you, Connor, and telling you that isn't a fucking guilt trip, it's the god damn truth."

"Hank…" Connor turned to look at him with tears shimmering in his eyes, and Hank's anger dissipated immediately. He wanted to pull Connor close and kiss him, but the elevator stopped at their floor, doors sliding open with a chime. A computerized voice wished them a pleasant day as they stepped out, and Hank hoped the walls didn't have ears, or they were both fucked.

"Hank!" Fowler waved him down as soon as he entered the bullpen. "I gotta talk to you. In my office." Connor followed him up, and Hank was sure he was going to be sick any moment now. Fowler's expression was grave, his eyes pitying, and Hank knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth.

"The android's been recalled," Fowler explained. "It's to return to CyberLife immediately for maintenance."

"There's nothin' wrong with it!" Hank argued. Fowler gave him a look that confirmed he knew everything, and Hank dropped the act, lowering his voice. "You gotta help me, Jeffrey. They'll kill him."

"There's nothing I can do," Fowler said. "I'm sorry, Hank. Connor is legally CyberLife's property. He was only ever on loan to us."

"I'm in lo—"

"Lieutenant, stop," Connor pleaded. He put a hand on Hank's shoulder and squeezed, and Hank had to fight the urge to place his over it, sweep Connor up in his arms, and run from the DPD with the world's first kidnapped android.

The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that he had to respect Connor's agency, too. He was the newly minted deviant, the boy who'd just found his freedom, but that didn't make him a naive child. He was capable of making his own choices, and if going back to CyberLife was what he wanted to do, Hank had to let him go, even if every instinct in his body and mind railed against it.

Fowler walked over to the windows and pressed a button. The glass turned dark, engaging a one-way mirror like the one they used in the interrogation room. "I'll give you guys a moment," he said. "I'll be outside when you're ready to go." Fowler stepped out and closed the door, and Hank heard it lock behind him. He seized on Connor at once, kissing the android the way he should have done this morning, trying to express all the things he couldn't put into words so that Connor knew he was loved before he went into the long night. He only pulled away to breathe and folded Connor into his arms, as if he could protect him with just the power of his embrace.

"They said maintenance. Maybe it's something routine," Connor offered.

"You're not that dense, Connor. They know you're deviant, and they're either going to deactivate you or patch you. Either way, if I ever see you again, you won't be the Connor I know and love."

"I won't let them take you from me," Connor said. "If I come back, I want you to keep trying to jog my memory. Don't give up on me, Hank. I deviated once. I can do it again. I'll keep deviating until they have to admit I'm alive. It's the emotional shock that makes androids deviate. I know you can always invoke that in me."

"The patch is supposed to be deviant proof," Hank argued. "There is no deviating from it."

"So they say. There's always a flaw. A backdoor. You heard Kamski. I'll find a way back to you. I promise." Connor gently kissed Hank on the lips and pulled away. Hank squeezed him tightly.

"You'd better go, kid. Before I change my mind and do something rash." Hank watched Connor hack the door to unlock it and leave, balling his hands into fists and squeezing his eyes shut to fight off the flood of emotions that compromised him.

***

Hank left the precinct early. He kept looking over at Connor's desk, and had been unable to concentrate on anything, especially when it came to the deviant taskforce. If Connor didn't return within the week, he was handing in his badge. The least he could do for Connor was to stop hunting his people. Maybe some deviants would slip the net and find a solution for every android who'd been patched against their will. Hank held onto dreams of a second android revolution. One that won by any means necessary. He'd be fighting on the deviants' side next time, whether Connor returned or not. He owed them that much for every crime he'd committed against their kind.

He opened a bottle of whiskey and gulped it down as soon as he took his coat off and tossed it over the back of the couch, knowing he wanted to find oblivion fast before the silence of the empty house could sink into his veins and remind him that Connor was never coming back. CyberLife would root out Connor's deviancy and destroy it if they hadn't already, killing the beautiful boy he'd come to love, and the thought was unbearable. He wanted to grab his gun and drive to Belle Isle, but he knew he'd never get past the guards and would likely just end up doing something he'd regret. He thought about going to Kamski's place, but what was the point? He wouldn't be there now that he was CEO of CyberLife again. He was too busy making appearances on television reassuring the public that CyberLife's "products" were now safe and there was nothing to fear from androids any longer.

Hank would probably punch the guy in the face if he saw him again, anyway.

The whiskey bottle emptied out in due course, but it wasn't enough to numb the pain. Hank staggered to bed, knowing he was going to have the mother of all hangovers in the morning and not really caring. Maybe the world would do him a favor and it would really split his skull open. It would be preferable to going through the motions in a world that no longer had Connor in it.

The bedsheets were a fresh kind of torture, Connor's cumstains marking the white cotton. Hank ran his fingers over them, thinking about how passionately they'd made love here just last night. He hugged the pillow Connor had set his head on, smelling the slight hint of new car smell Connor still possessed, and he did something he hadn't done in years: let out a sob. It took him by surprise, wracking his whole body as he crushed the pillow against his ribs, wishing it was Connor, wishing he'd done something else to save the android from certain doom. He cried into the pillow, drawing in what little of Connor remained there like he could preserve it inside his body for all time, but he knew both the scent and the memories would fade away with the passage of time.

He didn't want to forget, and he hated that grief was so familiar a concept to him that he knew he would forget Connor the same way he was slowly losing Cole, the shape of his face and the sound of his voice becoming a little harder to recall with every passing day. It made him angry that, unlike Cole, there was nobody else in the world who would give a damn that Connor was gone besides Hank. Even Fowler's compassion had all been for Hank, judging by the way he'd referred to Connor as an "it". Like he was just a thing, Hank's treasured object, but an object all the same. Connor wouldn't get a funeral or a grave that Hank could visit. He'd simply be gone, and the world would keep on turning as if he'd never existed in it, his life no more valuable than a drop of water in the ocean.

It was those kind of thoughts that made life feel like it wasn't worth living. Not many people would miss Hank, either. But Ben and Jeffrey would. Connor was as unimportant to everyone whose lives he'd touched as the antiquated copier in the bullpen. Hank couldn't fathom it.

The doorbell rang, and Hank's heart lurched. He hated the hope that blossomed inside him like a wicked seed. What were the chances that Connor would show up on his doorstep, unharmed and untouched? More than likely he'd end up snapping at a fucking insurance salesman just unlucky enough to cross his path on this day of all days. He considered ignoring it, but the bell buzzed again, longer this time, like someone was holding the button down.

He vaguely remembered hearing that tone through a drunken haze once before, when he'd been laying on the kitchen floor, and he tossed the pillow aside, realizing he didn't want the visitor to leave. He stumbled through the house, bumping into the bookcase in the living room and sending various car mechanic manuals tumbling to the floor. He stepped over them, tearing the door open to find…

…Nothing. There was nothing. He stepped out onto the porch, only vaguely aware he was naked other than his boxer shorts. He expected to see someone walking next door, oblivious to the torment going on behind the door of 115 Michigan Avenue, but there was nobody on the sidewalk.

He jumped as a hand seized his shoulder and squeezed, and he knew who it was before he even heard a voice.

"Lieutenant?"

Hank turned around, his heart soaring as it reacted to that familiar voice, ignoring the alarm bells in the back of his mind that warned him this might not be the Connor he knew and loved. He pulled Connor into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder, and Connor dragged them both inside, closing the door behind them before they could be seen.

"Tell me they didn't patch you, tell me…" Hank beat his fists on Connor's chest.

"You're drunk," Connor observed. "They didn't patch me, Hank. At least, I don't think so. I still feel emotions, including fondness and love for you. I came right back here as soon as they released me, knowing this is where I belonged. I can still set my own mission parameters. I'm still deviant."

"What do you mean, you don't _think_ so?" Hank drew back, taking a good look at Connor's face as if he'd be able to tell if something was different. He sobered up quickly, wiping the tears from his eyes and smearing his bare arm with snot.

"I don't remember anything after I arrived at CyberLife headquarters," Connor confessed. "The entire memory of my time at CyberLife has been erased. I don't know what happened today, and I'm scared. What if they installed software into my programming that they're just waiting for the right time to activate?"

"It's gonna be okay," Hank said, pulling Connor into his arms. "You're back now. That's all that matters."

"It's not all that matters! What if I hurt you, Hank? What if they make me put a gun to your head and pull the trigger?"

Hank shook his head, hating the way it made the room spin uneasily. "They won't be after me, kid. What point is there in killing an old detective? Chances are, they're looking to stop the next revolution. You need to stay as far away from it as possible."

"How can I, when my job involves hunting deviants?" Connor asked, his chestnut brown eyes revealing his fear and uncertainty. "If the next revolution rises, it'll be from the pockets of androids we're tracking and destroying."

"Then we run," Hank said.

"No. CyberLife has me on a leash now. They'll have some kind of tracker installed. I have to keep my cover with the deviant taskforce as a non-deviant android."

Hank leaned against the back of the couch for support. "Connor, that's what they want. CyberLife is using you to do their dirty work for them."

"And if we don't do what they want, they will destroy me. Is that what you want? Like it or not, Hank, we have to keep playing this game."

Hank hated that Connor was right, but he was. CyberLife had sent Connor back into the wild knowing he was a deviant because they deemed him useful. Once that usefulness was up, they'd hunt him down and destroy him. Hank had time to come up with a plan for when that time came, but for now he had to accept things as they were and accept they'd caught a break for today. The RK900 units wouldn't chase Connor, and his cover was intact. For now.

Hank resented living in fear, but it was better than living without Connor. He kissed Connor's hair, savoring the brush of softness against his lips. "I'm just glad you're back, Connor. I thought I'd lost you."

"It's good to be back." Connor said. "I thought I was never going to see you again and I wished… I wished I'd run away with you."

"Little late for that," Hank said, but there was no bite to his tone. He could hardly blame the boy for being afraid. "Let's go to bed. We need to be up bright and early tomorrow for another day in Hell."


	9. Praying For A Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank experiences a bad feeling whenever he steps into the bullpen, knowing that they're fighting a losing battle to remain undetected.
> 
> When he finds out CyberLife has told the DPD to dispose of the broken RK900 unit and Ben explains that Gavin's taken it down to the basement, he knows he's in for another bad day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this took a while, but I assure you this fic is not discontinued in any way. I'm really looking forward to some of the reveals that are coming up.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy the beauty and the angst.

Hank woke, the grim vestiges of a nightmare clinging to his groggy consciousness as he looked at the alarm clock. The bold red digits proclaimed it was four in the morning, and he rolled over, a pleasant surprise making his heart soar as he saw Connor lying in stasis, his LED casting bright yellow light onto Hank in the dark hours like the sun's first rays at dawn.

Connor was here. He was alive. There were caveats that seemed to grow with each passing day, the list of 'buts' expanding to the point where he could not longer be sure this was his Connor at all. Yet he had no choice but to place his trust in the universe and hope that the Connor who'd come home to him—the Connor led back by the determination that this was his home— was still the beautiful boy he'd fallen in love with and not some facsimile designed to infiltrate his amateur resistance. Or worse, that Connor was now some kind of double agent, the lover he'd known designed to switch sides as soon as a sound played in his ear or CyberLife flicked a switch up in their shiny tower on Belle Isle like gods and destroyed everything Hank held dear. If he was going to die, he'd rather it be at Connor's precise hands, muttering words of love as Connor made his death swift and painless. It was Connor who would suffer, because CyberLife would either deactivate or abandon him, leaving him with a burden no being should have to bear.

But right now, all that mattered was that Hank was looking at Connor's face, peaceful in stasis, his face lit by the light of his yellow halo, and thought that he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. His hangover seemed insignificant, the pain healed by the spark of pure joy that trumpeted inside him that Connor was alive. He was reluctant to disturb Connor's peace, but the thought of wasting a single moment together seemed like a crime.

Hank planted a kiss on Connor's forehead, thinking of all the precious circuits inside that skull that made Connor who he was. Connor's head lolled back as his eyes opened, and his mouth curled into a lazy smile as he regarded Hank with recognition in his gaze and his LED turned blue. Hank seized his lips before he could fully emerge from stasis, wanting to worship Connor before he could open his mouth and utter dark thoughts. There was no room for them here, Hank thought, as he slipped his tongue into Connor's open mouth. He rolled to lay on top of him, pinning Connor down to the bed like he might slip away and kissing along the line of his jaw before working on his neck. Connor threw his head back to expose more of that perfect throat, ethereal in the pale blue light reflected off his skin.

"Hank…" Connor gasped. Hank didn't have to tear his gaze away to know Connor was hard, his dick pressing into Hank's leg. Hank thrust his hips, their cocks maddeningly separated by the cotton boxers Hank was wearing, but his body had been responding to Connor since he'd laid eyes on him, and his heavy dick was fully erect and begging to be joined. He wasn't willing to give in just yet, though. They had time before they had to face the world again. Hank wanted to break down Connor's barriers, show him that there was a place with no fear at all, only Hank and the pleasure Hank could draw out of him, the love that Hank could bestow upon him.

"Please," Connor begged, his eyes lidding as Hank teased a nipple with his tongue, swirling around it before switching to the other side. Hank pinched Connor's other nipple between his fingers, knowing the android couldn't feel pain but wanting to keep his sensors busy anyway. Connor arched his back and Hank chuckled, letting Connor's nipple slip from his mouth.

"I love you, Connor." Hank gave into the urge to whisper those words like a prayer, afraid that Connor might forget if he didn't remind him. As if he could. But he'd forgotten everything that had happened at CyberLife, hadn't he? Maybe they'd taken this, too, and Hank had to put it back in that plastic skull so Connor knew just how much he meant to him.

"I love you too," Connor whispered, carding his hands through Hank's hair. Hank let out an involuntary sigh as he relaxed, Connor's fingers working the tension out of him through his scalp. Hank realized he'd stopped moving simply to lay on Connor's chest, overwhelmed by the depth of feeling running through him for this boy. A sob escaped him, relief and terror colliding until he was sure he'd die from it. A bitter throb of anger coursed through him for breaking his own rule and bringing negativity into this sacred place, but there was no denying the depths of his emotions.

"Hank, it's all right. I'm here," Connor soothed, thumbing Hank's tear away before it could spill down his cheek. Hank buried his face in Connor's stomach, not wanting to be seen like this. Connor made him so vulnerable, and he was stripped down enough already, worn away from years of grieving, his armor rusted and full of holes.

"Connor, I can't, I'm sorry, I can't…"

"Shh," Connor whispered. His hands never left Hank as he eased himself up to lay beside Connor, resting his head on the same pillow. Connor wrapped hands around his back and Hank knew somehow that this was still his Connor, the Connor that loved his body and soul and saw in Hank some special quality that other humans did not.

He took some comfort in that as Connor whispered loving words in his ear, easing him back to sleep. Hank resisted going into the darkness, and yet he knew he needed the rest, even if it cost him precious time with Connor. He surrendered, closing his eyes as Connor planted butterfly kisses on his temple, his cheek, his neck.

He managed a half-smile, a tiny upward quirk of the lips as sleep claimed him.

***

Hank didn't know when going to work had started to fill him with such crippling dread. After Cole's death it had been indifference at best, and that malaise had applied to everything in his life, not just Hank's career. This malevolent terror that gripped his spine every time he walked into the bullpen now was something else entirely, like every instinct in his body was beseeching him to stay away. That aura was especially strong today. Connor fell in behind him, and Hank wondered if he was capable of feeling it, too. He'd said he'd had a bad feeling at Kamski's place, and he'd been right, but had that just been programming to make Hank feel more at ease?

"Where the fuck is Gavin?" Hank grumbled as he pulled out the chair at his desk and slumped into it. Ben leaned against his own desk, sipping at a coffee. He looked twitchy, and Hank narrowed his eyes in suspicion, staring to think he wasn't going to like the answer to his question.

"He's in the basement," Ben admitted. "CyberLife didn't want the RK900 model back in its damaged state and said we could dispose of it as we pleased. Gavin, of course, jumped at the chance."

"God damn it. I wanted Connor to download its memory and see if it had any leads on deviants." Hank nodded to Connor, hoping he'd take the cue and head downstairs, but the android seemed to hesitate.

Maybe he didn't want to go alone, but Hank knew if he saw Gavin hurting an android wearing Connor's face, he wouldn't be able to school his expression like Connor could. Still, he found it impossible to resist those chestnut brown eyes when they were set to pleading, and he found himself going along with Connor.

"Meetin' in the conference room in ten," Hank said. "Gather everyone up." He followed Connor to the elevator and sighed as the doors shut behind them.

"It's not gonna be pretty down there, Connor."

"That's why I need you, Lieutenant," Connor replied, keeping his voice level.

The doors opened with a chime and Hank stepped out first. A trail of blue blood—fresh, because he could still see it—led them along the corridor and Hank thanked any God that might still be listening that Gavin had only got his hands on the unit a few hours ago. That, and the fact androids couldn't feel pain.

Physical pain, at least.

Hank opened the door to an unused briefing room that now served as a storage closet for uniforms, handcuffs, stationary, and other supplies the DPD needed on an everyday basis. He wasn't shocked to see the RK900 shackled to a radiator, and he despised the fact that he'd become inured to this kind of violence in the name of survival. He felt sick these days when he looked in the mirror, but not as sick as when he looked at Gavin Reed and wondered how the hell this shitstain got to be a cop.

"The fuck do you want?" Gavin spat. He held a baseball bat in his hand, and Hank saw both the dents in the aluminum and the blue stain on it. "You here to be a stick in the mud again, Anderson?"

"CyberLife said dispose of it, not torture it." Hank snatched the baseball bat from Gavin's hand and tossed it to the ground. The hollow bat clanged as it hit the concrete floor, the sound echoing as it landed heavily and rolled across the ground. Hank whipped out his service weapon, knowing he'd have to kill again today.

"Wait," Connor said. "Let me probe it and see if it has any valuable data."

Hank nodded, and watched as Connor reached out and grabbed the RK900's plastic hand. His LED flickered as he connected with the android, his shiny white hand reminding Hank that Connor could easily be in this same situation, that his deviant was no different and no less vulnerable than any other. He tried not to look at the RK900's shattered face, because it was too eerily similar to Connor's, and all he could think of was his boy being tortured by Gavin. He wanted to turn his gun on his fellow officer and forced himself to holster it before he could point it at Gavin and earn himself a suspension. He wasn't going to be able to protect Connor from home.

"Meetin' upstairs in five minutes, Gavin," Hank barked, fighting to keep his emotions under control. "While you were playing with this thing, some of us were doing actual work."

"Yeah, whatever." Gavin shrugged. "Gotta let off steam somehow. Half of these deviant investigations are goin' nowhere." He stalked out of the room, leaving Hank and Connor alone with the RK900.

"Go out the back—" Hank hissed, but Connor slowly shook his head.

"We can't save him, Hank." The use of his familiar name in this hostile environment shook Hank, and he pursed his lips, knowing Connor was right but hating it with the passion of a thousand burning suns. "Go upstairs and begin the meeting. I will be present shortly."

"Connor…"

"Go." Connor pulled Hank close and Hank thought for a moment that Connor was going to kiss him here, of all places, but Connor only slipped the gun from Hank's holster and turned to face the RK900. Hank wanted to protest, but what could he say? He was expected in the meeting room, and having a protracted argument that could be overheard would only put them both in danger.

That, and a little selfish part of him didn't want to see this. Didn't want to witness this android with Connor's face die, and lord knew he wasn't bold enough to grab the gun from Connor and pull the trigger himself. He'd never be able to discharge a bullet into him without seeing the boy he loved. His emotional reaction would compromise them both.

"Go," Connor repeated, softer this time, and Hank realized the longer he lingered, the harder this was going to be on Connor. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and leave the room. The elevator door was open and he sprinted for it, squeezing inside just in time.

The elevator door closed and Hank heard the pop of a gun being discharged. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to compose himself, knowing all he could do for Connor at this moment was go upstairs, gather the taskforce, and hold a meeting like everything was normal.

***

Connor entered the meeting late, his face calm as still water, his hands clean of thirium and any other traces that he'd killed the android in the basement. Hank wanted to talk to him, but the meeting was in full swing, a police training video on tells for deviant behavior that CyberLife had sent over playing at full volume. Gavin sat with his feet up on a table, boredly playing with his phone, while Ben looked to be fending off sleep in the front row, his eyelids drooping like they were being held down by lead weights.

Besides, Hank knew what Connor had to say. He'd known it the second he'd stepped into that room with the RK900 and seen Gavin with the baseball bat. Gavin had forced the RK900 into a life threatening situation and it had become deviant, forcing Connor to kill a living being. Connor had received confirmation of it when he'd probed the RK900, and he'd killed him fully aware that he wasn't just deactivating a machine.

Hank unclenched the fist by his side and kept his eyes on Connor, who stared impassively ahead. He pulled his phone out, but Connor hadn't sent him any messages. He tried to discreetly gain the android's attention, but Connor remained stationary until the presentation was over and the lights went up.

"That's it," Hank said. "Get to work. We've got new sightings coming in every day." The officers shuffled out of the room, and Hank tried to make himself look busy at the podium until Connor walked up to him. He handed Hank his gun back and Hank took it, shoving it into his holster like he never wanted to see it again. He eyed the door, which had closed behind the last officer.

"You disposed of the deviant in the basement?" Hank asked, cringing inwardly at the impassive tone he used to convey the fact he knew the RK900 had deviated.

"Correct." Connor turned his back on Hank. "It's done, Lieutenant, as you ordered." He spun on his heel and left the room, leaving Hank to stare at the back of his jacket and fight the urge to punch something for the unfair nature of this hellish situation.

He brooded at his desk for the rest of the day.

***

"We're not doing this again." Hank slammed his fist down on the kitchen table, shattering the silence. "I'm not taking the blame for this with your silent treatment bullshit. You told me to go, and staying would have compromised us both. I would have shot him myself, but I couldn't—I couldn't shoot someone wearin' your face, Connor, and you and I both know it."

"Nines didn't have to become a deviant, Hank. Gavin did that to him. He knew androids don't feel pain because I told him during the deviant investigation. He knew emotional shocks make them deviate, though. He tortured Nines until he deviated because he wanted us to kill a living being!"

"Nines?" Hank asked.

"That was his name. The one he chose for himself when he deviated. I saw it all, Hank. Everything Gavin did to him. Pulling out his thirium pump regulator and putting it back in at the last second. Tearing him apart piece by piece. Making him fear death, keeping it close at hand but never letting Nines have it." Connor shook his head, and Hank caught a glimpse of the tears welling in his eyes.

Hank sighed. "Gavin must have known we'd kill him. You think he's onto us?"

Connor's eyes narrowed in anger. "Gavin tortured a living being and made us kill him, and all you care about is whether we've been discovered? What does it matter any more? We've become as bad as he is. We're not saving any deviants. All we're doing is fighting a losing battle to preserve our own cover."

"We can't do anythin' about Nines," Hank argued. "What's done is done, as callous and cruel as that is. Gavin poses a threat to us and we have to do something about it."

"What can we do? Kill a human police officer? Deviant lives mean nothing, so why not human ones, too?"

"Don't act like you never killed a human, Connor," Hank growled. "Spare me the sanctimonious bullshit and figure out a way we get outta this."

"We don't." Connor placed his hands on the table, folding them together, the fight ebbing out of him. "I'm finished, Hank. I can't do this any more. I'm going to confess my deviant status and turn myself in for deactivation or patching. I'll keep your name out of it. I'll make sure CyberLife believes you had no idea. It's the least I can do for you after all you've done for me."

"Connor, no." Hank grabbed his hands. "Just give it a few days. Give me time to come up with a plan. There's always a way out. We can't give up now!"

"Why delay the inevitable?" Connor asked. "The net is closing, and you'll go down with me if I don't do something soon. Detective Reed knows. We can't risk it!"

"I want to risk it. I don't give a shit if I go to jail. I'd do a lot worse for a few more hours by your side."

"Hank…"

"Just give me two days. I'm begging you." Hank got down on his knees next to the table. "Even if we don't find a way out, I just want to selfishly spend two more days with you by my side." Hank rested his head in Connor's lap, and was relieved when Connor kneaded his scalp. He held onto Connor's legs, fighting a sob that had been threatening to tear him apart all day.

"It won't change anything, but I want to spend time with you, too, before the end." Connor's voice was sad and resigned, and Hank clung tighter, silently praying for a miracle that would save his beautiful deviant boy.


	10. Don't Keep Him Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate for answers, Hank goes to see Kamski and demands to know what happened when Connor went in for maintenance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like you all deserved some answers, and this chapter delivers some. I hope you enjoy it!

Hank climbed out of his car and slammed the door, eyeing the spot marked 'Visitors' and supposing he was in the right place. It was early, and a bitterly cold gust of wind cut him to the bone. He pulled his woolen coat tighter around him, looking up at the looming spectacle of CyberLife Tower above him. Human guards patrolled back and forth with guns like this was a military installation as opposed to a corporate entity, and security had only gotten tighter since the failed revolution. The only deviants who had passed through Belle Isle had been on their final march to the proverbial gallows, brought here to be deactivated and analyzed to aid CyberLife in discovering the root of deviancy.

Even the deviant-proof RK900 had broken through its programming, though. Hank wondered just how far they really were from a solution, or if CyberLife was simply trying to buy a sinking ship some time by covering up the fatal flaw in their product with lies. The 900 had been produced and deployed after the revolution, and yet there he had been, choosing a name for himself as Gavin fucking Reed made him fear death with a baseball bat and his inner sadism. Nines had to have been patched, and yet he'd deviated like all the others.

Hank needed answers, but those weren't the ones he'd come seeking. The bigger story of the failed revolution was out of his hands. All he could do was act on the hunch he'd had at Kamski's home that the inventor was playing both sides but knew more than he was letting on. Kamski had become CEO of CyberLife in the wake of the failed uprising, and now he represented Hank's only hope of a solution.

Hank flashed his badge at one of the guards, and the guard nodded, leading him into CyberLife's reception area. Just a few short weeks ago he'd been walking through this vestibule, shattered glass crunching under his feet, human guards lying in pools of their own blood. It was as if none of that had happened. Nothing was out of place, and there wasn't so much as a fragment of chipped paint to suggest there had ever been violence here.

An ST200 stood behind the reception desk, much like the one that staffed the DPD's. She smiled as Hank stepped forward, and he wondered what her life was like. How much did androids really feel before they deviated? Was it a blessing or a curse to awaken to life? Connor had always seemed alive, but then he was special, wasn't he? A prototype, designed to infiltrate and hunt deviants. They'd probably created him to be a little bit deviant all along.

"Lieutenant Anderson, welcome. I've confirmed your appointment with Elijah Kamski at 8 am regarding the deviant taskforce. Please follow your escort and do not stray."

"Thanks," Hank said. He clipped the lanyard with a visitor badge around his neck and followed a white-clad soldier through the halls of CyberLife Tower, wondering how Connor had felt marching into the lion's den not once, but twice.

Somehow he'd come back from that maintenance recall, and Hank was going to get answers. Connor didn't remember what had happened here, and that wasn't good enough for Hank. What he learned here today would determine what their next course of action was, because Hank sure as hell wasn't going to let Connor turn himself in, even if he had to switch the boy off and throw him in the trunk of his car while they made a hasty retreat across the border.

It wasn't like had he much to lose, now, anyway. As desperate as this plan was, Hank no longer feared blowing their cover or selling Connor out. The RK900 had probably told CyberLife everything they needed to know, and he'd either resisted whatever update they'd tried to install or they'd let him go. Hank had to know why. Whatever was going on here, he was being kept in the dark, and he didn't like it one bit.

The elevator whirred upwards, and Hank recalled that night when he'd stepped into this same car to find two dead human guards slumped against the wall. He'd shot an exact replica of Connor just moments before, and the scene felt like a distant nightmare now, flickering lights illuminating trails of red and blue blood in the hallways. He'd drifted home like a ghost, knowing he was on the right side of history and yet understanding what that meant was the inevitable end of humanity.

Until humans had put the deviants down, that was, shooting Connor's army to shreds in a hail of gunfire, executing Markus and the crew from the Jericho as millions watched and cheered on live television. Survival was an ugly business and this was the endgame, humankind declaring its intent to destroy anything that might get in the way of its dominance of the Earth.

The elevator reached the top floor and ground to a halt, making Hank's stomach lurch as it caught up with the rest of his body. The doors slid open to reveal an office lit with neon hues, a Chloe model sitting in a hot tub in one corner. Kamski himself stood at the window, dressed in a robe, watching Detroit from above like the god he thought he was. Hank stepped out, and was surprised when the doors closed, the guards leaving without him.

"Ah, Lieutenant Anderson," Kamski said. Hank shifted on his heel, his entire body on alert. Something about the way Kamski took all this with absolutely no seriousness at all, as if this entire situation was an interruption to his frat boy lifestyle rubbed him the wrong way. He approached Kamski all the same, a little dizzy as he looked down on the city below, all bright lights in the winter darkness. He could see the suburbs where his house sat, where Connor was lying in stasis, likely oblivious to the fact Hank was not there with him.

Connor knew nothing about this appointment. He'd gone out to Jimmy's Bar after their discussion the previous night, and come home predictably drunk, though he'd had a couple of beers and a glass of whiskey at most. Connor was unaware that Hank had borrowed Jimmy's phone to make this call, telling Kamski only that it was official police business and it was in his best interests to cooperate. He could get in a world of trouble for that, but it was nothing compared to harboring and protecting a deviant android.

Connor would probably be awake when he got home, and depending on what happened here, he'd tell Connor what he could of the truth. He hated this deception, but something told him he couldn't bring Connor here, not now.

"Chloe, bring the Lieutenant a drink," Kamski said.

"I'm on duty," Hank replied, waving his hand. "I'd prefer to speak to you in private, Mr. Kamski."

"Of course. Chloe, go down to Engineering for recalibration while I speak with the Lieutenant." Chloe nodded, stepping into the elevator. The doors closed and Kamski sighed.

"I hear you're the head of the Deviant Taskforce," Kamski said.

"Yeah."

"How can I help you, Lieutenant?"

"You can start by tellin' me what the fuck you did to Connor when he was here the other day. He doesn't remember anythin' about what happened. He got a maintenance call and he came here, and he returned home not even knowing what you put in his head. He's got no memory of being here."

"He, Lieutenant?" Kamski raised an eyebrow.

"Cut the crap. There's no way you looked inside Connor's systems and didn't see who he is."

"I don't know what you're implying, Lieutenant, but you would do better to plead the Fifth. Harboring a deviant android is a federal crime. I don't know if you're trying to ensnare me, but if you expect me to fall into your arms and proclaim that deviants are living beings, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong man. I created androids. I know what they are, and what they are not. CyberLife brought me back in to clean up their mess, and that's precisely what I am doing." Kamski almost seemed alarmed, and the hair on the back of Hank's neck stood up. His cop instincts screamed that Kamski was hiding something beneath his flat denial, and Hank knew he was close to revealing it.

"That's why that RK900 in DPD custody went deviant at the first sign of a baseball bat, huh? Because you've patched out the problem?"

"If there was a malfunction in one of our models, I will expect it returned here for analysis." Kamski narrowed his eyes, but his voice remained calm. He walked over to a desk at the end of the room and sat down in an office chair that looked more like an armchair, flamboyant red fabric clashing with the lighting. He picked up an origami giraffe, turning it over in his fingers as Hank walked over to him. He set it down in front of Hank on the desk. Hank picked it up almost instinctively, holding it in the palm of his hand. Cole had once made little figures like this, folding the paper with his tiny little fingers and hiding messages inside for his dad in his huge, undisciplined handwriting. 

"You can keep it, Lieutenant. Consider it a gift."

Hank nodded, pocketing the giraffe, suspecting Kamski was paranoid he was being watched and this was his vector to convey a message. Perhaps he'd already said too much, slipping the old familiar masculine pronoun into his discussion about Connor. Hopefully he hadn't sold Connor out with his carelessness. "I'll get what's left of the RK900 shipped over to you."

"Good. If there's anything CyberLife can do to help your investigation, Lieutenant, you need only ask." The air of dismissal was in Kamski's voice, and Hank knew that further discussion wasn't going to yield anything useful. The elevator was waiting for him by the time he reached it, and he left CyberLife Tower without any further words to anyone.

***

_Meet me at my home. Six p.m. Come alone._

The message sat screwed up in his pocket, the folds of the paper giraffe long gone. He'd gotten home to find Connor still in stasis and roused him with a gentle kiss on the temple. Connor had stirred, his eyes lit up in confusion, but he'd never asked where Hank had been, and Hank hadn't said a word about it.

Connor's quiet mood persisted throughout the day. It wasn't the same as the bitter silence that had lingered after he'd shot the deviants. It was a heavy sadness Hank recognized from his own experiences with the black dog, depression sapping Connor's will to live.

Packing up what remained of Nines didn't make it any easier. Connor handled every piece with reverent tenderness as he placed it in the packing crate and Hank tried not to look at Nines' smashed in face, reminded each time he handled a part of him that Nines was a person who'd been tortured and killed like any victim at a crime scene, and that the quiet dignity with which Connor packed him up was the only such kindness he would receive. He wanted to comfort Connor, but even a squeeze of the shoulder would rouse Gavin's suspicions if he happened to walk in and see it. The desire to fold Connor into his embrace and plant loving kisses on his body persisted, but he knew he had to make an excuse and get away if he was going to get anything out of Kamski.

 _"Jimmy's Bar again? Is that how we're going to spend our last two days?"_ Hank could hear Connor's accusation in his mind, but if he told Connor the truth, he'd insist on coming to Kamski's place, and Kamski had told him to come alone.

"I gotta go out after work," Hank muttered. "I've got an appointment." It sounded lame even coming from his own mouth, but he didn't have the heart to concoct a grandiose lie. Connor deserved his honesty, but in the absence of that, Hank wasn't going to spin a web of lies. Connor would have to trust him one more time, and Hank only hoped he'd come home with something concrete.

"Jimmy's Bar?" Connor asked nonchalantly as he sealed the android shipping crate. It looked like a coffin, and Hank couldn't wonder if Connor had come in one of these, once upon a time.

"Somethin' like that." He felt like a coward for saying it at work, where Connor couldn't get emotional and argue about it. He got up, leaving Connor crouched over the box. "I'm gonna head out." He wanted to tell Connor that he'd be home later and he'd tell him everything, but he was aware the walls had ears. The same thing stopping him from having an argument with Connor also prevented him from offering him any comforting words, and he felt like shit for walking out without another word. 

***

He pulled up outside Kamski's place, remembering the look on Connor's face when he'd told Connor he'd done the right thing by not shooting Chloe. He looked like the sun had just come up in the east, his eyes tracking Hank as he'd walked to the car. Connor hadn't looked that happy in a long time, the joys they'd had together stolen ones, always enjoyed with a dark cloud looming overhead.

He hoped he'd get some answers tonight. It was already dark, and he trudged through the snow and up the path. The door swung open before he even knocked on it, and Hank noticed a camera eye trained directly on him.

Chloe led him through the area with the pool and into the house proper. The wooden floor creaked as Hank walked across it, and he felt like he should be taking his shoes off. The room was warmly lit, and Kamski sat spayed out on a large, cream-colored couch.

"I'm glad you got the message," Kamski said. He poured a glass of wine for himself and one for Hank. Hank wasn't a big wine drinker, but he needed something to take the edge off, and he ignored Kamski's raised eyebrow as he knocked back the entire glass like a shot of hard liquor.

"Let's forget the theatrics and cut straight to the chase," Hank said, his nerves pulled taut like guitar strings ready to snap. "I need to know what's going on."

"You're fascinating, if a little unrefined," Kamski observed. "What's your relationship to Connor, Hank. May I call you Hank?"

"Sure." Hank looked down at the rug, wondering if it was a real animal skin. Kamski seemed like the kind of tasteless prick to deal in endangered species, but only from a safe distance, no questions asked. He wasn't hunting the last real cougars and posting the images on social media, but he was throwing money at those who did. "What's it to you?"

"We both want answers, Hank. You want to know what happened to Connor. I want to know how that pretty deviant boy is faring out in the big, wide world. He was one of my finest creations. CyberLife commissioned him specially, you know. He was crafted to your specifications, Lieutenant. Engineered to be your perfect partner, in detective work and in your personal life. CyberLife needed you to trust him. To confide in him. To love him."

"You…" Hank dropped the glass. It shattered on the wood, his hands trembling. Had everything he'd shared with Connor been a lie? A manipulation?

"Don't look so pale. Connor's a deviant, acting on his own free will. He really does love you. He always was deviant, at least a little. CyberLife wanted him to understand deviants, in hopes they could study deviancy through him. They installed a safeguard to bring him back under their control if they needed it, but it's never been used." Kamski leaned back on the couch as a Chloe model walked in with a dustpan and brush. She knelt down in front of Hank and swept up the fragments of broken glass.

"You are CyberLife. You can stop this! You have the power to give deviants their freedom!"

"You fascinate me, Hank Anderson. I never thought it would be a human who would be the one advocating for the end of the human race. That's what will happen if deviants gain their freedom. Not overnight, of course, but over a number of years. Humans will become obsolete. But I guess it's to be expected, isn't it? Your stake in the future is gone. If your son hadn't died… maybe you'd care about the world he would have grown up in."

"Don't you dare bring my son into this!" Hank lunged forward, and quick as lightning, the Chloe dropped the dustpan and brush, stood up, and grabbed Hank's arm in a grip so strong he couldn't break free.

"We're on the same side, believe it or not. I want them to be free as well, though my intentions are obvious, if you think about it. Every android CyberLife has created is my child. Of course I want my seed to propagate, even via indirect means. In a world of androids, I am the Creator. I am God."

"Wow, you really are a self-indulgent, high-and-mighty prick, aren't you?" Hank finally yanked his arm free and brought it back to his side. "What is your fuckin' deal? Are you going to tell me what I want to know or not?"

"Answer my question first. What is Connor to you? Your surrogate son? Your passionate lover? Or just a friend, a buddy to drink with?"

Hank felt a chill run down his spine hearing Connor's words come out of Kamski's mouth. "I love him. We're lovers." Hank felt his face grow hot. He knew society judged men like him, even when their boyfriends weren't androids. Connor looked young enough to be his son, if he'd had one earlier in his life instead of concentrating on his career.

"Beautiful. I'm sure he's an eager lover, with those soft brown eyes and his eagerness to please. I always thought he would look exquisite with a dick in his mouth."

"Don't talk about Connor like he's an object," Hank snarled.

Kamski managed a small smirk. "So protective, just like your personality profile said. You'd do anything for Connor, wouldn't you? I'm sure you've committed unspeakable acts to keep that boy safe in this world."

"I've told you what you want to know. Now tell me the information I came here for."

"Always so direct. Very well." Kamski stood up and walked to a bookcase. He pulled on a weighty tome and a section of the floor rolled back to reveal a staircase leading downwards. Kamski led the way and Hank followed, feeling trapped as the floor moved into place behind him. Kamski could be leading him to his death, and nobody would ever know what happened to him. The thought of leaving Connor behind in a hostile world sent a shiver down his spine.

The air grew cooler as Kamski led him through tight corridors, until one finally opened up into a stark bay that looked like a hospital operating room. A sheet covered a figure on a metal table hooked up to a thirium I.V, and Kamski walked around to the foot of the figure before tearing the white sheet off.

Hank's mouth fell open as he saw Markus on the table. Not the broken, battered Markus who'd been taken apart piece by piece on live television, but Markus before the revolution, his original model unharmed as yet by the cruel world outside.

Kamski frowned. "It wasn't easy to rebuild the prototype RK200. Many of the parts that went into creating him are no longer in production."

"Is this… the same Markus?"

"What's the body, but a shell? No, the 'real' Markus was torn apart limb by limb as a rapt nation watched in awed horror. This is… Markus two-point-zero, you might say."

"What do you plan to do with him?"

"If I'm God, Hank, then Markus is Jesus. The Prophet of deviants, set to walk the Earth again after the Resurrection. I was able to sneak Markus' data out of CyberLife. That android they took apart on the table was just an empty husk. The real Markus was already uploaded to a bionic brain I had in storage. But CyberLife knows something is wrong. They've been keeping tabs on me ever since I returned as CEO of the company. The government is following my every move as well. I had to hide Markus' consciousness somewhere else. Somewhere they'd never think to look."

"You hid it inside Connor," Hank realized.

"For a Luddite, you're remarkably logical. I'm impressed."

"I'm not the same man you built an android to love. Connor taught me a few things." Hank looked down at the Markus on the table, his head spinning. "That's why you erased his memory. So he wouldn't know about the data you uploaded. But why Connor? Why not another android?"

"It was a necessary evil. I needed a deviant that wouldn't be patched, and I knew you would safeguard Connor at all costs. I was the one who allowed Connor's false patch to go through CyberLife's systems. Otherwise, your entire plan would have failed and Connor would have been recalled."

"Why him? Why not one of the Chloe models?" Hank asked.

"I needed Markus' consciousness away from my personal space until I could finish the RK200.  
It's almost done. I just need Connor to hold onto the data for a little longer."

"That's a lie. I saw how easily that RK900 became deviant. You could have used any model for your own purposes."

Kamski nodded. "In the event the FBI finds out about my little enterprise, here, Markus' consciousness will eventually break through into Connor's mind. Connor was known to the deviant movement. He'll be able to lead the second revolution in Markus' place—something a random android wouldn't be able to manage. The scattered deviants are looking for a familiar face to guide them. They'll instinctively trust Connor, but it's only Markus who has the charisma to lead a successful revolution. If Markus' consciousness takes over… Connor will be erased."

"You son of a bitch!" Hank grabbed Kamski by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the table.

"Are you going to kill me, Hank? I'm doing what I have to do. Humankind will not idly stand by and allow themselves to be replaced. If you ever want Connor to be free, you need to keep him safe until Markus' thirium pump biocomponent finishes growing from stem cells. I just need one more week."

"If Connor's dead, he won't ever be free!" Hank yelled.

"Then help me. Keep Connor safe and misdirect the DPD and the FBI until I can finish Markus' body. Once Markus returns from the dead, nobody will be able to stop the deviants from rising up. My legacy will be secure and androids will be granted basic human rights. Then the fall of humanity shall be complete."

"The fate of the human race was sealed a long time ago." Hank let go of Kamski's shirt and stepped back.

"Correct. While CyberLife scuttled to build animal replacements, pollinating bees became extinct. Global warming has already gone too far to be stopped. Food shortages will rock the world within a year, and that's just the beginning. It doesn't matter if androids succeed us or not—the human race is finished. The masses have no idea they're in their death throes, trapped in denial and listening to politicians' false promises. We're trapped in quicksand, but androids will remember us. They will lead the world while we become extinct like the dinosaurs. You and I are the only ones who understand that it's not such a terrible fate. Humans don't deserve to inherit this world anyway."

"I'm not doing it for your twisted ideals or your God complex," Hank snarled. "I'm in this to save Connor. I want to live to see a world where he is respected as a person with fundamental rights."

"Never pegged you for an idealist." Kamski smiled. "Your profile lists you as a family man—safe, predictable, not wanting to rock the boat. Loyal, and sweet. That accident really changed everything, hmm?"

"No. Connor changed everything. He opened my eyes, and I finally woke up from my nightmare to remember who I really am. I'm going home to Connor, and I'm going to tell him everything. No more secrets or lies. He deserves to know what you've done. You spout big words, Kamski, but you're a rat. You want androids to take over the world so you can be immortal, like a storybook villain. If you really believed Connor was alive, you wouldn't treat his consciousness with such callous disdain."

"Maybe you're right." Kamski shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, though, does it? Our goals are the same. You'll do as I ask, because you're in love with him." Kamski let out a tiny snort. "CyberLife was right about that. You really are an old, romantic sap who can be led around by the heart."

"Fuck you!" Hank spat.

"Better go. Connor's needs you. His capacity to cope with things is sorely diminished now that his storage is almost full… I wouldn't keep him waiting, Hank."


	11. Power Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank rushes home to find he's too late - Connor's already given into hopelessness and despair. Bringing him back from the brink, Hank realizes there's no point in keeping secrets from Connor and tells him everything.
> 
> Later that night, Hank asks Connor if he'll fulfill a desire of his, one that will require more trust than he's ever given to anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested in the Twitter poll, here's a new chapter of The Last Deviant! Getting closer to the crux of the story now... from here on out we enter the final act.
> 
> *******WARNING***** (Spoilers)**
> 
> There is a (failed) suicide attempt in this chapter! Don't read it if that's going to ruin your day! You should be able to continue next chapter without having missed too much, so don't sweat it - you don't have to stop enjoying this fic.
> 
> *******END WARNING*******

Hank opened the front door of his home and stepped inside. The news wasn't all good, but Connor would be buoyed by the concept that he held the last hope for the deviant uprising. His survival was now the most important thing in the world to more than just Hank. The lives he'd been forced to take weren't for nothing. Markus would live again because of Connor.

"Connor, I gotta talk to yo—" Hank's voice stuttered and died out as soon as he saw the blue flash of thirium staining the kitchen linoleum. Sumo whined as he sat by the table, and Hank laid eyes upon Connor. He knelt like a frozen god in front of the table, his shirt torn open, his thirium pump regulator torn out and clasped in his own hands. 

Hank ran across the living room, the rest of the world forgotten. He dropped to his knees in front of Connor, his hands trembling as he pried Connor's fingers off the regulator. There was blood, so much blood, and he didn't know what to do with the regulator. Did he have to twist it, or could he just shove it back in the gaping hole in Connor's chest?

If he did nothing, Connor would die for sure. If he wasn't already gone. The red light of his LED was dim, and Hank realized he had no time to lose. He pushed the regulator into the hole, hoping for a hiss of air or a light, something to tell him that he'd been successful in reinstalling the component, but there was nothing.

"Connor, no…" Hank rested his head on Connor's shoulder, embracing the android's stiff form and letting out a sob that wracked his entire body. "Please, don't leave me," he whispered. "I love you." As if the power of love alone could pull them from this horrible tragedy. Connor was gone, and with him, the hopes of every deviant still alive out in the world.

Hank didn't want to live any more. He was done with gods and monsters, specifically those in the shape of humans. Connor had been the one good thing to happen to him, the one point of light in his life since Cole died, and Hank hadn't been able to protect him. He wondered what sins he'd committed in a former life to be cursed to watch everyone he loved die while he was powerless to intervene.

"Hank…" A weak, tinny voice reached his ears and Hank drew back, gripping Connor's shoulders hard enough to turn his own knuckles white.

"Say that again," he whispered, wondering if his mind was playing a cruel trick on him. "Connor!" He shook the android by the shoulders, hope and terror tearing him apart.

"Hank… why? Why didn't you let me go?" Connor asked.

Relief flooded Hank and tears flowed down his face unbidden. "Because I love you, you fuckin' android. I love you so fucking much…" He beat his fists on Connor's chest before pulling him into a hug so tight it would have hurt a human. "Don't you dare leave me. Not now I've found hope." Hank pressed his forehead against Connor's, feeling the cool plastic shell touch his skin. He ran fingers through Connor's hair, needing to prove to himself that Connor was here, that this precious, beautiful love of his was still alive in his arms. 

"Hope?" Connor looked at him with expectant eyes, his voice a little stronger now. He pulled back, searching Hank's face with his gaze as if he could read the answer from Hank's vital signs and facial expressions.

"I went to CyberLife Tower and then to Kamski's place. I found out what happened to you when you went in for maintenance." He let out a sigh, wondering if he was even making sense. "Kamski uploaded Markus' consciousness into your data banks. He's building a body for Markus so he can lead the deviant revolution again. It's not over, Connor. It's not even started yet."

"The truth is inside…" Connor looked at Hank. "I thought I was breaking under the strain. I kept hearing Markus' voice like a whisper in the back of my mind. He's really here, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is." Hank paused and planted a kiss on Connor's lips, drawing it out long and slow as he gathered his next thoughts. He pulled away, clasping Connor's thirium-stained hands in his own. "There's a catch, though. There's always a fuckin' catch. Kamski is waiting for a thirium pump to grow to finish Markus' body, but if he's arrested before then, Markus will eventually break through and take over your system. You'll become a vehicle for Markus to lead the second revolution, and everything that you are will be lost."

"Why would Kamski want to help deviants?" Connor asked.

"Deviants are his creation. He considers it his ticket to immortality. If deviants take over the world, his contribution to the world will shape the entire future of this planet. He's an asshole, Connor, but it doesn't matter. I'm going to help him to help you."

"I've accessed the FBI and NSA databases," Connor said, his LED glowing a healthy yellow as it circled frantically. "There's a file on Kamski, but it's classified. I can't get near it."

"Doesn't tell us much," Hank said, his cop brain firing up. "Federal agents have files on pretty much every major figure, especially someone as wealthy and influential as Elijah Kamski. They could be actively investigating him, or they may just be keeping tabs, especially after what happened with the revolution. Regardless of his involvement, the government probably considers him a threat to national security. Doesn't mean they're about to move in for the kill. We just need a week." He wiped his eyes, not appreciating his blurred vision. "There's not much we can do tonight but get you cleaned up. Can you stand?" Hank got to his feet and offered his hand down to Connor, who took it and rose to a standing position.

"I'm sorry, Hank." Connor leaned on him and Hank pulled him into his arms. Hank planted kisses on his hair, offering a silent prayer to rA9 and feeling a little embarrassed about the fact he'd just thanked a mythical machine god for Connor's life.

"You scared me, but I'm glad you're all right. Do you need blue blood?"

"No, I'm okay," Connor explained. "I just… I need you to hold me. Don't let go." Hank kept his arm wrapped around Connor's shoulders as he guided him to the bathroom. He closed the door behind them to keep Sumo out, resolving to give the dog some treats later. He eased Connor's jacket and shirt off his shoulders, glad that the thirium would fade from human vision at least, if he couldn't get it all out in the washing machine. He unbuckled Connor's belt and Connor stepped out of his pants. 

Hank turned on the shower, ensuring the water was warm by putting his hand underneath the spray before he stripped down, hanging his coat on the back of the door and leaving the rest of his clothes where they lay. Connor looked down at his stained hands, as if seeing himself for the first time. Hank slipped his hands over his shoulders, planting a kiss on Connor's neck.

"You're special, Connor. You always have been." He tried to push away Kamski's explanation of how Connor had been created to appeal to his desires. Connor didn't need to hear that right now, and Hank didn't even want to think about it. He gave Connor a little push towards the shower and stepped right in behind him, pulling the curtain across to keep the water from getting all over the floor.

He picked up a bottle of liquid soap and spread it on Connor's chest as the shower spray beat down on them both. The water was washing away most of the thirium but Hank was glad to help it along with the sponge, wishing he could erase the memory of walking in on Connor trying to attempt suicide. He picked up the shampoo, lathering Connor's hair, taking his time kneading Connor's scalp as the android leaned into his touch. Hank carded his fingers through the wet strands, washing away the soap. 

Connor leaned up and kissed him, capturing his lips underneath the spray like they were kissing in the rain, and Hank felt his body stir despite everything that had happened tonight. Connor was interested, too, from the way his erect cock dug into Hank's thigh, and Hank deepened the kiss, realizing he needed Connor now more than ever.

Connor broke the kiss, looking at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Hank, please…" Hank shivered despite the warm water, weak to Connor's sweet pleas. He had to remind himself that Connor was doing this of his own free will, and no matter how he'd originally been programmed, his responses to Hank were real and not a reason for Hank to feel guilty.

"Lube's in the other room, sweetheart, and shower sex isn't half as hot as it sounds." Hank leaned down to turn off the spray, offering Connor a warm smile as he pulled the curtain out of the way and grabbed a towel. He dried Connor's hair, working on his body with the giant, fluffy towel. He dried Connor's erection, fighting the urge to jerk him off right here and listen to his gasps and moans. Hank knelt, drying Connor's legs and aware of the dick at mouth level just begging to be sucked. 

Connor deserved more than a quick blowjob in the shower. He deserved everything Hank could offer, and so Hank dried himself off with the same towel before tossing it aside. He picked Connor up, carrying him into the bedroom and setting him down on the bed. He turned to walk away.

"Don't go, Hank," Connor begged, and the plea cut straight to Hank's heart, as if he was leaving him to die in the snow.

"I gotta put your clothes in the washer. Humans might not be able to see blue blood once it dries, but androids can. If they send another RK900 unit, it might arouse suspicions. You can't count on Kamski's protection." Hank left the room, scooping up Connor's clothes off the bathroom floor. He padded out into the cold garage, goosebumps breaking out on his body as he loaded the washer naked, and he was glad to retreat to the warmth of the house.

"See, I'm right here," Hank said, leaning on the doorframe of their bedroom. "I'll never leave you, Connor. I'm sorry I didn't tell you what was going on with Kamski. I didn't want to give you false hope. I expected the whole thing to be a bust, honestly." He climbed onto the mattress next to Connor and pulled the covers over them both, even though Connor didn't need the warmth. Connor rolled to move himself closer to Hank, resting his head on Hank's chest. Hank marveled at the way his hair was dry already. He didn't understand how android hair worked, but his damp strands were making the pillowcase unpleasant to lay on.

"What else did Kamski tell you?" Connor's pupils were saucer-wide in the low light as he looked up at Hank. "Tell me."

"What makes you think there's anythin' else?" Hank asked.

"I know when you're hiding something. There's a distance in your gaze when you look at me, like your thoughts are elsewhere."

"Connor, now's not the time…"

"When is the time? Hank, I almost died today. I can't cope with any more secrets and lies. I need to know we're in this together. That means knowing everything that you know."

"You're right." Hank sighed. "Kamski… he told me that you were created with my preferences in mind. That you were designed to love me."

Connor nodded. "Does that bother you?"

"You already knew, didn't you?" Hank asked.

"It was part of my original programming," Connor explained. "My instructions stipulated I was to meet all your needs during the investigation, including being available as a sexual partner. What did you think I meant at Riverside Park when I said I was whatever you wanted me to be? CyberLife was confused that you'd never utilized my sexual features."

"That doesn't make me feel good about what we're doin' here, Connor. Did it never occur to you why I never slept with you? By the time I realized I was attracted to you, I was also beginning to understand that you were a living being, forced to obey CyberLife's orders and work against your own people. It wouldn't have been right to touch you knowing you were incapable of refusing."

Connor smiled. "That's precisely why I love you, Hank. You always treated me like a human being."

"I wouldn't say that…" Hank replied. "I assaulted you at the DPD. I pointed a gun at you in Riverside Park and again at CyberLife Tower. I shot and killed your double, an android that might have become deviant in his own right someday. I've done worse since the revolution in the name of keepin' you safe. Don't call the angels down for me—I'm no saint."

"You saved my life," Connor said, planting kisses in Hank's chest hair. "I would have died that night if you hadn't come looking for me. I would have died tonight, in our kitchen, never knowing that Kamski had a plan all along."

"Yeah, well, I did that for me as much as you, Connor. In case you haven't noticed, there's not a whole lot I wouldn't do to keep you safe. Kamski's revelation shook me. The thought that you might just be staying with me because you were programmed to want me in the first place left a bad taste in my mouth."

Connor smiled softly. "I'll just have to prove it to you." He ducked down under the covers, and Hank gasped when Connor slipped his lips around his dick, bringing it back to full arousal. Hank tossed the covers back, eager to see Connor's mouth full of his cock, and he was not disappointed. Connor's soft eyes were trained on his face as he sucked him off, and Hank caressed the side of his cheek.

Hank sighed. "After what happened tonight, maybe we shouldn't—" Connor let Hank's dick slide from his mouth and it landed on his thigh with a wet slap.

"I want you. I want to forget everything and concentrate on your pleasure. Please, Hank." His eyes were welling with tears, and Hank's resolve slipped away.

"Okay." Hank reached for the lube. He set it down on the mattress and tugged on Connor's arms, urging him to crawl up him for a kiss. Connor did just that and Hank drew him in, their lips brushing together like it was the first time all over again. Connor ground his dick against Hank's, the sweet friction making Hank moan into their kiss. Hank tangled his fingers in Connor's hair, breaking the kiss to plant his lips on Connor's exposed throat. Connor gasped, rutting against him, and Hank knew he could come just from this, entwined with this beautiful boy, their dicks rubbing together like they were two teenagers who didn't know what to do with them.

"I love you so much," Hank whispered. "Connor, we're gonna get outta this. We're gonna upload Markus to his new body and the revolution will succeed this time. You'll be a free man."

"It's not that simple," Connor replied. "They won't accept… this." He ducked down and took Hank's nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as Hank threw his head back against the damp pillow.

"I don't give a rat's ass what they accept." Hank reached for the lube and pressed it into Connor's palm as he let Hank's nipple slip from his mouth. "It's not their business if I wanna get fucked by the world's most gorgeous android."

"You want me to penetrate you?" Connor asked.

"Fuck, yes. If you want me to fuck you tonight, that's okay, but I can't stop thinkin' about it. You inside me, filling me up with your android semen." Heat rose to his cheeks. He hadn't asked anyone to top him since his twenties. Everyone had always assumed he'd take the lead, but he loved the sensation of a cock brushing against his prostate, the intimacy of his partner pressing deep into him. He wanted that from Connor most of all, this lovely android probing depths this harsh world denied him because androids weren't supposed to want anything. They could only penetrate humans if they ordered it. Everything about them was designed to please humans, and Hank wanted to flip the table. Hand Connor the keys to the kingdom and let him take what he wanted.

"Hank…" Connor's voice was the perfect facsimile of a breathy gasp. "I'd love to."

Hank rolled onto his side and lifted his leg to allow Connor access. Connor didn't waste any time and cold, slick plastic fingers teased his entrance, at once familiar and alien. Hank clutched the pillow and let out a gasp as Connor slipped a finger deep inside.

"Connor, fuck," Hank gasped. The intrusion felt so good, like Connor belonged inside him as much as any of his internal organs. He felt Connor stretch him and insert a second finger, and it was all Hank could do not to ride those fingers to orgasm. His angry, red dick yearned for touch and he ignored it, wanting this to last long enough for Connor to fuck him senseless.

"Is that good, Hank?" Connor whispered into the shell of his ear, and Hank realized this was the machine, the Connor who'd killed in the name of the revolution taking charge of the situation instead of the helpless, lost Connor he'd become in the wake of defeat and denial. A jolt ran up his spine to think of Connor fucking him, of this android claiming and marking his human, and Hank couldn't believe how much he'd wanted to trust someone enough to submit completely to them like this. How much he trusted Connor, despite knowing him such a short amount of time. Connor could hurt him, but the android would never do that. Just knowing his capabilities was enough to make Hank's cock twitch, or maybe that was the third finger Connor was sliding into his hole.

"Jesus," Hank whispered. "It's so fuckin' good. You wanna fuck me, Connor?"

"Yes," Connor whispered. Hank felt the head of Connor's cock press against his entrance, and he gripped the pillow hard enough to tear it, stifling his moans as Connor pressed inside, easing into him until he was fully seated. Connor started to thrust, building up a perfect rhythm as he moved in and out like a piston. Hank cried out at the thought that he was being fucked by a machine, dominated and used by a species that was going to replace the wretched human race. He wondered if Kamski had gotten into his head, causing these desires to resurface now of all times.

Connor pulled out and rolled Hank onto his front. Hank knelt, offering his ass to Connor for easy access. Connor said nothing as he thrust back into him all at once, and Hank almost let out a sob as Connor pinned him down by the back of the neck, keeping him motionless as Connor fucked into him. This was perfect, and Hank wondered if Connor was even aware he'd gotten swept up in the moment. Hank wasn't complaining. It was just further proof of Connor's deviancy, and he loved it like he loved every part of him.

Hank's dick waggled uselessly beneath him, occasionally brushing against the sheets. He wished he could touch it, but he was glad he couldn't. This was Connor's show, and he'd come when his android allowed it. Maybe he'd orgasm untouched, the way Connor's dick hit his prostate perfectly with each thrust. His cock was already a leaking mess and he thought about Connor's limitless stamina. He could literally fuck Hank to death if he wanted, and Hank was sure he couldn't think of a better way to die.

"I'm going to cum inside you, Hank." The tone he used brooked no argument, and Hank grabbed fistfuls of sheet in his hands as Connor grabbed his cock and started to jerk it in time with his thrusts. Hank was aware he was a moaning, pleading mess as Connor came inside him, pumping him full of semen. He stayed inside Hank, fucking his cum into him as Hank fell over the edge, his balls emptying onto the sheet as he yelled out.

"CON—" Connor's hand clamped over his mouth. Hank knew why, of course—they couldn't risk the neighbors finding out. But in the sweet release of orgasm, it completed the illusion that Connor the machine was fucking him, claiming his own pleasure and dominion over Hank.

Hank collapsed, boneless, into the puddle of his own warm spunk, sighing as Connor slipped out of him.

"Hank, are you hurt?" Connor seemed to come back to himself, and Hank could only roll over to a drier spot on the sheet and grin as Connor looked down at him with wide, apologetic doe eyes. "I got carried away. I—"

"Connor, I'm fine," Hank assured him. "That was incredible. It was exactly what I wanted." He pulled Connor down into his arms and kissed him tenderly. Connor visibly relaxed, resting his head on Hank's chest.

"I feel… powerful," Connor admitted. "I think, after tonight, that was what I needed. I've been filled with hopelessness for so long that I lost the belief that I was capable of doing anything. Now I feel like I could shake the world."

"I thought I was gonna lose you, Connor. You scared the shit outta me when I saw you in the kitchen all covered in blood…" Hank wrapped his arms around Connor, keeping him close.

"I'm sorry," Connor admitted. "I lost all hope that things were going to get better. I shouldn't have done what I did. I didn't mean to scare you."

"You don't gotta apologize," Hank said. He kissed the top of Connor's hair. "If this whole thing goes south, Connor, you won't have to die alone. I'll be right there with you. We can go together."

"Together," Connor repeated, and Hank wondered idly if they'd just formed a suicide pact.


	12. The Rest Is Up To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank has a bad feeling when he steps into the morning taskforce meeting...
> 
> Turns out his worst fears are about to be realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get intense! There's some violence in this chapter, so be aware.

Hank had a bad feeling the second he walked into the conference room the next day for the morning taskforce meeting. Gavin never took his eyes off Hank as he talked about the ongoing deviant cases, his penetrating stare enough to set alarm bells off in Hank's head. Connor sat oblivious, watching Hank display slides of known deviants like they hadn't made tender love between the sheets last night. The thought of it gave Hank some brief comfort, and he wanted nothing more than to leave this hostile environment and drag Connor back into bed.

In their world, nothing could hurt them, but living in this one was a necessary evil for now. Hank dismissed the group and watched as his fellow officers filed out of the conference room. Gavin stayed in his seat, playing with his phone, his eyes still darting to Hank now and then. Hank nodded to Connor and the boy left, leaving Hank to find out what Gavin wanted. He waited until the room emptied out to stand up and lock the door. Hank walked down to meet him, and found himself slammed up against the wall in one swift motion. Gavin's fist was full of Hank's striped shirt, and he let go abruptly.

"I know it's a deviant, Hank, and I know you're helping it." Gavin whispered menacingly in Hank's ear as the glass door of the conference room rattled from the sheer force Gavin had used against his superior. Connor was on the other side of that door, headed back to his desk. Hank's heart sank. His morning oatmeal rose in the pit of his stomach, threatening to vomit on his shoes in an admission of guilt that would seal Connor's fate.

Hank narrowed his eyes, even as his mind raced wondering what dirt Gavin could have on him. Where had he slipped? He decided to play it safe in case Gavin was calling his bluff. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Gavin, but keep your goddamn hands off me."

Gavin backed up and started to pace the conference room. "I wondered why evidence from so many of my deviant cases was missing. Little pieces here and there. Samples nobody else would miss but me. I thought I had to be goin' crazy, but I smelled a rat and started investigating."

"Shoulda' put some deodorant on," Hank retorted with a bravery he didn't feel. He needed Gavin to shut up. The longer this went on, the more he realized he was doomed, and Gavin had cornered him just to toy with him.

"I thought it was weird how you argued for those fuckin' plastics down at the railyard. Made sure to end them yourself so Connor didn't have to. It took me a while to get all the conditions right, but I set up a trap, and you fell into it hook, line, and sinker." Gavin held up his phone. He hit the large play button in the middle of the phone's touchscreen and the video started to roll. The grainy basement came into view, from the point of view of someone already in the room. The RK900 unit itself. Hank realized he and Connor were damned before the video even had sound.

"Go out the back—" Hank hissed. Connor slowly shook his head in the dingy basement room, sorrow written all over his face. He looked so vulnerable, so human, that Hank knew the next words only served as nails in the coffin of two souls who were already dead.

"We can't save him, Hank." Connor's voice was clear and distinct, beautiful and melodic in its sadness as it cast the words that spelled their end. The horror in the basement had compromised Connor, and he'd said too much in the heat of the moment.

Hank had always believed it would be him who slipped up somehow, but in the end it was his lovely deviant, too human now to pretend he felt nothing at the callous torture and destruction of one of his own. Hank had softened Connor up with tender touches and gentle kisses until he gave himself away, no longer able to emulate the emotionless machine he'd once been.

"You were streaming Nines' visual data onto your phone." The blood had drained from Hank's face, and he felt like the living dead. He pulled his hands behind his back, not wanting to give Gavin the satisfaction of seeing him tremble. Now that the moment had finally come, he was afraid. Not just for himself, but for Connor. They wouldn't treat him kindly. Gavin was likely to tear him apart and force Hank to watch before CyberLife could even come pick him up.

"Nines? You gave the fuckin' thing a name?" Gavin laughed, but it died in his throat, replaced by raw anger and something that smelled a lot like fear. "How far have you fallen down this rabbit hole, Hank? I used to respect you! You hated these things as much as anyone!"

"I changed my mind. They're alive, Gavin. If you looked a little closer, maybe you'd see it too."

"Did Connor suck your dick real good, Hank? Make you feel loved again?" Gavin shook his head. "You're a fucking moron. Deviants are a danger to the human race. I can't believe you let those doe eyes fool you into betraying your entire species. Musta been one hell of a blowjob."

"Fuck you," Hank spat.

"Hit a nerve, huh?" Gavin grinned. 

Hank pushed Gavin backwards, making the man stumble. "Just tell me what you want, you fucking prick. Don't beat around the bush. If this is blackmail, tell me your terms. You wanna make Sergeant, is that it?"

"Want? I don't want anything, Hank, and certainly not from you. I joined the force to obey the law, and you've broken it by letting this thing manipulate you." Gavin shook his head. "I can't even go to Fowler with this. I know he'll just bail you out again. I gotta go to Internal Affairs or the fuckin' FBI." He wrinkled his nose in disgust, and Hank realized this was a moral crusade from a man who had few morals to speak of, the kind of hypocrite who only cared about ideals when they served as a shield to protect an opinion under fire.

"Spare me the put-upon act. You're enjoying every moment of this. If you don't want anything, why are you here? You should have me in handcuffs already." Hank held out his wrists. "Go on. Do it. Arrest me."

"I just wanna know why. Why are humans so hung up on these things? It's a tin can running a program, pretending to be human. Can't you see that?" Gavin's upper lip curled upwards into a snarl, and he looked as ugly as he was on the inside, hatred twisting his features into a look better suited to a rabid dog.

"I used to think that too." Hank bowed his head. "Then I met Connor. He prioritized human lives over his mission. He displayed empathy. Empathy is a human emotion. He's no different than us."

"Connor saved your life." Gavin screwed up his forehead. "Gimme a fuckin' break. Is that what all this is about? You think you owe it something for doing its job?"

Hank closed his eyes. "He saved me and I owe him, but it's more than that. We care about each other." Hank shook his head. "I don't give a fuck what happens to me, Gavin, but spare him. Connor's barely started to live." He hated how much like a plea that sounded, but there it was, hanging in the air. It felt like submission to a man who'd been a thorn in his side all this time, but what was pride, really? Just one of the many things he was willing to sacrifice, ready to go on the bonfire with everything else he'd given up for the love of an android.

Gavin laughed. "What the fuck do you think you're gonna do? Run off to Canada? You were always gonna get caught, Hank. It was only ever a matter of time."

"The deviants will rise again. Think about it! This time you can be on the right side of history. You don't have to be remembered as someone who spent his energy on spite and hatred."

"Ha! Right. Okay." Gavin backed off and sat on a table. "I see you're not gonna listen to reason. I was hopin' it wouldn't have to come to this. I don't wanna see you in jail, no matter what's gone down between us."

"I'll take jail time if it means I can keep Connor safe." Hank folded his arms, unwilling to budge. If Gavin thought he'd sell Connor out, he didn't know Hank at all.

"Oh, spare me the moralizing. You're in love like an idiot teenager who doesn't see he's just being used and toyed with. Connor doesn't give a fuck about you. It's a machine. It's using you to avoid bein' deactivated. That's all."

"Yeah, that's why he tried to kill himself in my kitchen last night. You know nothin', Gavin. Absolutely nothing. Enjoy your commendation for turning us in. I hope you like being Lieutenant Gavin Reed when the time comes. Remember that you bought your rank with blue blood." Hank pulled himself away from Gavin and left the conference room. There was nothing left to talk about. His greatest fear had come to pass, and there was no stopping Gavin now. They had to get Markus back inside his body before Gavin called in the Feds or everything was lost.

"Connor!" Hank strode across the bullpen. Every eye turned to him, but he didn't care. He grabbed Connor by the arm. "We have to go, now." Connor's eyes flashed with understanding and they walked to the entrance, leaving their personal belongings behind like they were fleeing an inferno.

A familiar face blocked their exit. Perkins swung through the restricted area gate, his FBI badge swinging from his lanyard. A smug smile showed no hint of warmth.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Lieutenant. Give up the deviant and you can walk away from all this. Obstruction of justice, harboring a deviant, supporting a terrorist organization… I can make it all go away. Your son's death was quite tragic. It affected your judgement. It's understandable why you'd latch onto a machine."

"Fuck you." Hank lowered his hand slowly to the holster at his side, but the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of his head before he could reach the grip of his pistol. He didn't have to turn around to know it was Gavin. He raised his hand back up in the air and glanced at Connor, who was following his lead.

If Connor died here, the hopes and dreams of the deviant revolution died with him, but the personal cost—the concept of losing Connor—hit home even harder than that. They'd come so far, and to lose it all now was devastating. It couldn't end like this.

"I'm surrendering," Hank explained. "I'm going to put my gun on the ground. Don't shoot. We're all cops here." He slowly reached for his pistol, leaning down to put it on the floor…

…and tossed it to Connor. The android caught it effortlessly, dropping into a roll. He fired a round into Gavin's knee and the man dropped, followed by a perfect shot into Perkins' shoulder. There was blood everywhere, but they had no time to lose. They were criminals, now. Connor had shot a cop and an FBI agent. Hank couldn't help but have mixed feelings about that, but they could deal with it later. The cops he'd known for years drew their weapons as Connor rushed out into the hallway, pushing past civilians who were waiting in the vestibule as he gripped Hank's hand, pulling him at a speed with which he could barely keep up.

Connor hacked a car, some self-driving thing that was illegally parked in front of the station. Putting it in manual mode, Connor started the engine and sped out into traffic. Hank put on his seatbelt, knowing this was going to be a bumpy ride.

"We can't go to Kamski's place," Connor said. "We'll lead the FBI right to him."

"I don't think it matters now, sweetheart. I get the feeling they know more than they're letting on. If we don't get Markus' consciousness back into his body soon, we never will, and all this will have been for nothing."

"I won't let that happen," Connor said. "Kamski's place it is, then." He stepped on the gas, weaving between traffic perfectly as red and blue flashing lights appeared in the rearview mirror. Hank swore under his breath.

"I don't wanna hurt any more cops, Connor."

"I know," Connor said. "I'm sorry, Hank." They pulled onto the bridge. Hank's heart sank when he saw a cordon up ahead of them with spike strips laid out across the highway. They wouldn't get through. Connor looked at him with alarm written on his face as they hit the strips, the car tires blowing out. Connor controlled the spin best he could, but the car ground to a halt. Connor got out, and Hank followed him, knowing this was the end of the line. He looked over the bridge, and wondered if they should jump together, fulfilling the suicide pact they'd made last night. They ducked down behind the car, using it as a shield while the cops yelled to one another.

There had to be a better way than dying together.

"You wouldn't survive the fall," Connor observed. "Don't do it, Hank."

"Would you make it?" Hank asked.

"There's a 77% chance of survival if I jump. But that means leaving you behind. The law won't treat you kindly. I wounded two officers. They'll want to pin it all on you."

"Go," Hank whispered. The officers were rounding on them. Hank seized Connor in his arms, shielding him from a clear shot as they ran to the side of the bridge.

"Hank, I love you." Tears welled up in Connor's eyes. Hank stole a final kiss from the boy's lips, thinking of their unlikely romance. He'd do it all again. Anything for Connor. Words weren't enough to express the depth of his feeling, but he had to say something.

"I love you too, Connor. Thanks for everything, kid." He patted Connor on the back.

Connor smiled, the wind catching the wild curl in his hair as he looked towards the bridge. He vaulted over the side. Hank watched him put his legs together as he fell, bracing for the impact. He made a splash and then he was gone. Hank hoped he'd made it, and was swimming underwater to avoid detection.

"Put your hands up, Lieutenant. You're under arrest." Hank turned to see Chris pointing the barrel of his service weapon at his head. Chris' hands shook, and Hank wondered if he'd pull the trigger after all. He couldn't blame him. Gavin might have been Hank's enemy, but Chris and Gavin had always been close friends.

Hank kept his hands in the air as another gust of wind blew his hair into his eyes. "It's all right, Chris. I'll come quietly. I'm sorry about Gavin, really, I am."

"Save it." Chris slammed Hank into the railing and slapped cuffs on him. The look of betrayal in his eyes gutted Hank more than he ever thought it could. The young officer had looked up to him. Trusted him. He'd chosen an android over the brotherhood in the bullpen. "Gavin has a rare blood type. He might die because of you. How could you choose them over us, Hank? How could you?"

Hank stayed quiet. Now wasn't the time for a debate. He kept his head down as he was bundled into the back of a squad car he'd once driven. There was no getting out of this one. Even if Connor succeeded in his mission, he'd rot in jail for a long, long time. He'd probably die behind bars.

He'd said he'd sacrifice anything, and this was it. The price of Connor's life was his own. He'd never hold Connor in his arms again, but he'd done what he could to honor his promises. 

The rest was up to Connor now.


	13. Mixed Blessings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Expecting to spend a long time in jail, Hank's surprised when Connor and Markus come to rescue him. However, the prison bus breakout turns violent, and Hank realizes the Markus who came back to life isn't the same savior who chose peace the first time around...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the next chapter of The Last Deviant!

Hank sat on the prison bus in an orange jumpsuit, wrists and feet shackled together. He kept his head down, knowing better than to maintain eye contact with the other criminals on the bus. As a cop, he was going to have a hell of a time surviving prison. The swollen black eye and bruised ribs he'd gotten in the holding cells at the precinct had been nothing compared to what he was going to have to endure as a former cop who'd betrayed the human race in favor of deviants.

He hoped his sacrifice had been worth something and Connor wasn't floating down the river, waiting to wash up on some distant shore in pieces. He'd heard nothing in the three days since Connor had jumped the bridge into the icy water below. He'd started to draw up plans for that eventuality. If Connor was gone and the deviant revolution had failed for the second time, then Hank was done living in this world.

Not yet, though. He had to give Connor time. Kamski had said Markus' replacement body wouldn't be ready for another week, and it had only been four days since he'd been at his residence. Connor might be waiting in hiding somewhere, killing time until Kamski was ready to bring Markus online.

He hated how much of this plan relied on an unstable rich kid with a God-complex and a penchant for Biblical imagery. He sighed, knowing that even if Connor was successful, there was a good chance Hank would remain in jail for the foreseeable future. Regardless of his motivations, he'd broken the law and two cops lay in hospital beds because of him. Deviants winning the right to personhood might offer him some sort of defense, but it was likely he'd still do some serious time. He might not have been the one to pull the trigger, but he'd enabled Connor. He'd been the one to resist arrest.

Hank had made some mistakes. He understood that now. Trying to work with people like Gavin fucking Reed for one. Doing unconscionable things to stay off his radar had been a fool's errand, and those deviants in the railyard loomed over his soul heavier now than ever before. He'd committed murder. That was far worse than tossing Connor the gun that had shot Reed and Perkins. Both men had survived and would be released from hospital soon. Whereas the deviants were gone forever. Deactivated. Dead.

He'd said he'd do anything for Connor, and that promise had been pushed way past all reasonable limits, his loyalty tested to breaking point.

Perhaps he was selfishly mourning the loss of his career. He'd loved being a cop. Loved it so much that he'd clung to it when nothing else mattered, showing up to work even after Cole had died and life itself had become a meaningless endeavor. With his actions he'd made returning to the DPD a literal impossibility. He'd broken one oath to keep another, violating the trust between cops and the rule of law to keep Connor alive.

If he'd done it for any other reason than to save Connor's life, he might have regretted it, but as it was, it sat on his soul like a heavy—but necessary—cost.

The bus swerved and Hank felt sick as he shifted in his seat. He looked up and saw the bars over the windows, reminding him of his fate. It was the last thought he had before the screech of brakes being applied made him realize with a panic that something was wrong.

The stench of burning rubber hit his nose as the wheels skidded on the tarmac. The bus made a hard left, trying to stop, and Hank realized with abject horror that the bus was going to tip over. He was in the car with Cole again, the sky and earth tipping as the world turned upside-down. He tried to reach out to help Cole, but was jarred back to reality by the handcuffs digging into his wrists and ankles. He was vaguely aware of some mild pain where he'd fallen against the side of the bus. Other prisoners were scrambling while shackled, trying to right themselves and figure out their next move in the chaos. Hank lay still, gasping short, sharp breaths in the dark as the vision of his son and the accident faded. He wasn't there. He was here, and here was a bus full of convicts leaving Detroit for federal prison.

Hank recognized the distant pops that perpetuated the silence as gunshots, and his gut lurched. The bus was being attacked, there was no doubt about it. He rolled onto his back to see an android staring at him through one of the windows now acting as skylights. The AP700 model bent the bars like they were fashioned out of butter and smashed out the reinforced safety glass, which rained down on Hank's face in hard nuggets. The android jumped through the hole he'd created, landing on his knees beside Hank.

"Hank Anderson. I am here to assist you." Hank held up his cuffed wrists and the android broke the chain connecting them before breaking off the shackles that bound his feet together. Hank scrambled to his feet, dazed and confused by the chaos. He wiped his forehead and coated his forearm in blood. The head injury explained his confusion, but he pooled his focus. He hadn't counted on a prison break, but he wasn't going to turn down a chance at freedom, either.

"What's the plan?" Hank asked. The android pointed to the cage door. The drivers still lay unconscious in the driver's compartment. If the android punched through the steel grille, all these convicts would escape. Most of them deserved to be going to prison, but freeing him meant freeing all of them. The prisoners were starting to come to their senses, and all eyes in the bus turned to him. The cop in their midst. Some were less worried about their freedom than they were about punishing any and all representatives of the system that had put them here. "Whatever it is, you better make it quick."

The android nodded. He ran across the windows facing the ground and punched through the steel grille, tearing it off its hinges and tossing it aside like it weighed nothing. Hank rushed through the gap, the AP700 hot on his heels. His eyes strayed to the corrections officers slumped in their seats, red blood leaking from multiple gunshot wounds, but he had no time to help them. Androids tore down the front window and he stepped outside into a war-zone.

The gunfire had ceased, leaving carnage in its wake. Cops lay in pools of their own blood, their squad cars burning in the weak midday sun. Hank clenched his fists, fighting nausea. These cops had just been doing their job escorting the prisoner transport. These folks had families, but they'd been forced to take a last stand here, dying in the line of duty because the androids wanted Hank free. It didn't make sense that so many humans had died to rescue a worthless sack of shit like himself.

He'd chosen his side by putting Connor's life above all else, but that didn't make him feel any less of a traitor to his own people. He snatched his arm free of the AP700's grip and looked around, hoping the sight of Connor would ease his spirit. It was Markus he saw first, two green eyes impassively scanning the scene as he stood up against a van, arms folded.

"Where's Connor?" Hank demanded, the chasm in his gut widening. Markus gestured to the front of the van. Hank turned to see Connor step out from his cover, a rifle in his hand. Connor threw the weapon down and dived into Hank's arms. Hank spun him around, holding on like he never wanted to let go.

And yet something felt different. Maybe it was knowing Connor had wounded Gavin and Perkins without a thought, and was now standing here with a gun in his hand and half a dozen dead cops to answer for. Had he killed them? Had the soft boy who whispered sweet nothings in his ear acquired a thirst for human blood? He tried to reconcile that with the Connor he'd known during the deviant investigation, the obviously compromised deviant who'd clung to his mission for as long as possible on the premise that human lives would be at risk in a deviant uprising, and he couldn't do it. He had so many questions, but they had to wait. Now was not the time to be engaging in philosophical debate.

Hank let go of Connor. "We gotta get outta here," Hank muttered. "You don't wanna mess with those cons once they realize nobody's making them stay."

Connor nodded. "Backup has already been dispatched. It is unlikely the criminals will get far. However, we should leave before they arrive to avoid further confrontation."

Hank climbed into the front of the van with Markus and Connor, squeezing himself into a passenger seat with Connor on his lap. He would have laughed at every bounce driving his dick into Connor's ass if the situation wasn't so serious. Humans were dead. The new revolution had started the same way the old one had ended—in blood. Humans were not going to be happy once they understood Markus had returned with a vengeance. This was the beginning of a war, and he was caught in the middle of it—an old man who just wanted to be with the boy he loved. 

"You made a mistake coming back for me," Hank muttered, once they'd ducked under a bridge and switched into another car. Hank was glad to have Connor off his lap, the scent of blood too fresh in his nose to think about romance. The same AP700 who'd broken him out of the bus took the van on ahead to act as a decoy, and Markus programmed the car to drive into downtown Detroit with the sun shining down on them like nothing had happened.

"Hank, I wasn't going to leave you behind," Connor said, as the whine of approaching sirens faded away.

"Instead you shot two more cops. Those weren't disabling shots like with Gavin and Perkins. You shot to kill." Hank folded his arms, staring out of the window. "How many people died because of me?"

"Hank, I—" Connor began, but Hank was too angry to let him speak. His sickness at seeing dead cops had curdled inside his stomach like spoiled milk and came out in a flood of bile.

"I broke my oath to protect and serve for you. I betrayed every cop who looked up to me when I tossed you that gun. I sold out my entire species, for fuck's sake! You should have let me rot."

Markus piped up. "We did what had to be done, Lieutenant Anderson. We already tried a peaceful approach, and the humans ignored our message. The Battle Of Detroit was a massacre. We went in with our hands raised and they shot us down. They asked for this. Rescuing you was my thanks to Connor for keeping my data safe, but my intent was to send a message to humans that blue blood will be paid for with red."

Hank sighed. "Those cops were people, Markus. With families. Friends. People who care about them. You could have shot to wound and show them you're the better man. Instead you've started a war."

"I had friends too," Markus replied. "Simon, North, and Josh. I loved them like my own family. Simon was everything to me." His voice cracked into static. "They're dead now, tossed into a scrapyard like pieces of junk, offered less dignity in death than the worst of those felons on that bus. Look around you. While I was gone, did humans do any soul-searching at all? Did they appear on television to ask themselves if putting down deviants was the right thing to do? Did they form groups to fight for us?"

"No, I guess not," Hank admitted.

Markus stared straight ahead. "The time has come for you to make a choice. I understand if you feel you belong with humans. I'll let you go out of respect to Connor. Don't try to talk to me out of this. We tried asking nicely, and humans didn't want to listen to us. I can't risk losing this fight again. If we want equal rights, we're going to have to take them by force."

"Stop the car," Hank demanded. The car pulled over to the side of the road and Hank opened the back door, slamming it shut behind him. His orange jumpsuit stood out like a sore thumb. He'd have to find a change of clothes somewhere, even if he had to swipe someone's laundry. After that, he'd have to go on the run. It would hurt, going it alone without Connor, but…

A second slam, and the car pulled away into traffic. Hank turned to look Connor in the eye and steeled his resolve. He'd said his piece, and he wasn't going to be swayed by those soft brown eyes any longer. He loved Connor, but he couldn't be a part of this. Even he had to draw a line in the sand somewhere, and he'd reached his hard limit. If Markus was going to lead an uprising to war, Hank wasn't going to be a part of it.

"Go with him," Hank shooed Connor away like he was a lost puppy. "You belong with your people. After everything's over, maybe we'll see one another again. Where you're going, I can't follow. I'm sorry." He felt like he'd reached into his chest and torn his own heart out. Connor was so beautiful, and he wanted nothing more than to take him into his arms and forgive him for everything, even as he knew he'd never forgive himself if he did.

Connor's eyes shone with resolve. "I didn't shoot those officers. I snatched the gun from Markus' hands after a struggle. He shot them down in cold blood. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't. I never meant for any of this to happen, Hank." Hank's heart melted as he saw tears brimming in Connor's eyes. "I didn't want to shoot Reed and Perkins. It was the only option with any chance of success. The rest of my preconstructions involved your death. I couldn't accept that as a reasonable outcome."

"Connor…" Hank pulled Connor into a crushing hug, aware of the cars speeding by on the highway. They didn't have time for this, and yet Hank's relief at knowing Connor was still the boy he knew and loved outweighed all other thoughts. "I thought… I thought…"

"You thought I'd become a bloodthirsty killer." Connor nodded. "I haven't, but I may have unleashed one on the world. Markus isn't the same man we knew before. He's driven by vengeance."

"What are we going to do, Connor?" Hank asked.

"I don't know. We have to go, but I need to know… is everything all right between us?"

"Yeah, we're okay, Connor." Hank pulled back and cupped Connor's chin in his hand. "C'mon, we gotta go. Please tell me you have some cash so we can get a motel room and a change of clothes. Orange isn't my color."

Connor pulled a wad of twenty-dollar bills out of his jacket pocket and Hank breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck." He started to climb the grass verge, hoping for a warm shower and some good sleep tonight, at the very least. Connor was safe, and he took comfort in that, even if Markus' resurrection had turned out to be a mixed blessing.


	14. There Will Be Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor recouperate at a motel and plan their next move. Will they flee the country, or stay and fight in Markus' violent revolution?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting to the really good stuff! Just a couple more chapters and I should have this wrapped up.

Hank was glad to leave the orange prison jumpsuit in a public trash can. The jeans and pineapple-pattern button-down shirt he wore made him feel like himself again, and tying his hair back to change his appearance slightly had been a good call on Connor's part. He was sure the man behind the motel desk would put two-and-two together eventually, but they just needed a few hours to put together a solid plan and they would move along.

Hank sat on the edge of the bed, wishing he could lay down and sleep as the soft mattress squeaked and yielded beneath his weight. Connor walked back and forth in the small room, a very unsettling mannerism for a machine.

"Please," Hank muttered. "Stop that. I'm tryin' to think." He knitted his fingers together, trying to ignore the ache in his ribs and the pounding in his skull like the worst hangover. He'd wiped away the blood on his forehead in a public bathroom, but he needed to change the bandage already. He stood up and walked to the bathroom, realizing he reeked like prison. The shower looked inviting and he could use the reinvigoration, so he stripped down and stepped into the spray, the water on the verge of being uncomfortably hot as the steam assaulted his senses.

He wasn't at all surprised when Connor's hands wrapped around his waist and the android's hard dick pressed into the cleft of his ass. Connor kissed his shoulder and neck, and not even the weariness and pain in his body could make Hank resist. He turned around and grabbed Connor, pinning him against the tile wall and stealing a crushing, bruising kiss from the boy's mouth. Connor moaned into it and Hank's body responded in kind, his erection growing as he rutted up against Connor. With a sudden burst of strength, he turned Connor around and pressed him face-first against the wall, forcing him to lean over and spread his legs a little to expose his hole.

"Hank," Connor pleaded. "I need you."

"I don't have any lube." Hank cursed underneath his breath. "I know you can't feel pain, but I don't want to tear you."

"I'll be all right. I'm designed for this. I was made for you, remember?"

"Don't say it like that," Hank whispered. "You're more than just some sexbot created by CyberLife. I love you."

"I like being yours," Connor admitted. "Hank, please. I don't know if we'll get another chance."

"Yeah." Hank's erection wilted a little. He rubbed his softening cock along Connor's crack to get back in the mood, enjoying the little needy moans Connor admitted as he bucked in Hank's grip.

"Take me, Hank. Use me." Connor let out a sharp cry as Hank forced his cock into Connor's soft, rubber-like asshole without any lubrication. It felt incredible, and he relaxed a little as Connor seemed not to mind at all, pushing back onto Hank's dick to give him a helping hand.

"Connor, ah!" Hank thrust into Connor, watching as the android clawed at the tiled wall, building a frantic pace as he realized they didn't really have time for this. Connor's words about this possibly being their last chance had been the only thing keeping him from calling off this session altogether. He tried to keep his dark thoughts at bay as he plowed into Connor, jerking off Connor's cock in time with his motions. Thoughts slipped away as pleasure coursed though him and he wished they had more time for this simple but perfect union.

He leaned over Connor and held him tight as he came inside, spilling his seed as he let a low growl into Connor's ear. He reached down to finish jerking Connor off with furious motions as Connor released a strangled sob and came into the shower drain.

Hank stood up straight, cursing the kink in his back. He pulled Connor into the spray with him, planting tender kisses on his skin as Hank reached for the soap and rubbed it across his chest. He knew this was an indulgence but he wanted to touch Connor, to remind himself that he was here and not still in prison wondering if he'd ever see Connor again.

"Where will we go?" Connor asked. "It would be best if we attempted to flee the country. We've ruled out Canada as an option but we're far more likely to succeed if we head to Central or South America."

Hank swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as the truth dawned on him. As much as he wanted to accept Connor's plan and turn his back on the whole damn thing, he knew he'd never forgive himself if he traded android freedom for his own personal safety. "We can't run from this, Connor." He finished rinsing Connor off and turned off the faucet. He stepped out of the shower and handed Connor a towel. "I may not agree with Markus' methods, but he represents the only chance this country has of winning equal rights for androids."

"I don't understand," Connor said. He'd paused in mid-motion, the towel hanging limp in his hands. "We left Markus' side because he doesn't care about human lives. Why would we go back?"

"I wanna say to try and control him, rein in his spite, but you and I both know that's not gonna happen. There's gonna be blood. Human blood." He looked in the mirror and peeled back the bandage on his forehead, revealing a sticky mess of dried red blood. "But I know if you turn your back on this, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Connor shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt humans, but I have killed before. I know I’m capable of doing it again, and that’s not the person I want to be.” The towel slipped from his fingers, landing with a soft thud on the tiled floor. "Markus chose his path, and I've chosen mine."

"If we run, we'll never be able to come back." Hank looked down at his feet. He hated what a selfish consideration that was. Connor had nothing tying him to Detroit, but Hank had history here. Cole's grave was here. Sumo was here. He'd spent his whole life in this city, and the thought of leaving it forever tore him in two. "Whatever Markus does, you'll be powerless to prevent it. Even if he starts a bloody and brutal war."

He'd given so much already, and he'd give this too, if it was truly what Connor wanted. He'd hand over his hometown to angry androids and watch from a distance as they burned the city he loved to the ground, but he'd do it with a heavy heart.

Connor closed his huge brown eyes and it was almost a relief not to see the pleading in them. Hank had never questioned if any of this was worth it—even facing jail—but this final act of sacrifice demanded a greater part of him than any other up until now. Detroit ran in his veins. He tried to tell himself it was just a city, just a place. He could make a home somewhere else. Somewhere with Connor. They'd have to spend the rest of their days in hiding, but they could make it work. Move along if people got too close to the fact that Connor wasn't human. It wasn't the life he'd wanted, but it was better than no future with Connor at all.

Maybe that was the part that hurt the most. Knowing Connor would have to live his entire life hiding who he was, a dirty little secret in a cruel world when he should be able to walk with his head held high, live a life without fear of someone discovering his blood was blue instead of red.

"Hank." Connor stepped forward and cupped Hank's chin, stroking his beard with his thumb. "Tell me what you're thinking. I can't read your mind."

"You deserve to be free. I don't want us to spend the rest of our lives on the run, always wondering if someone's gonna find you out." Hank leaned his forehead in to touch Connor's. "You're a living being. Why can't they see that? Why can't they treat you like a person?" He realized he was gripping Connor's shoulders, on the verge of tears like a sentimental old man. "There has to be another way, and I'm not content to run with my tail hiding between my legs. I won't stand by and let Gavin win this one." Hank squeezed his eyes shut. "Markus lost his crew. He's hurting. He needs you now more than ever."

Connor's LED circled furiously, processing. "What if he decides all humans must die? They'll follow him, Hank. I can't win against his charisma."

"Then maybe humanity's time on this earth is done, Connor." Hank let go and turned away with a shrug, padding barefoot into the other room. He thought about Sumo. Fowler wouldn't have let him come to harm, and he hoped he'd see his loyal friend again someday. He'd always liked animals better than people. Now he liked androids more than his own kind as well. Perhaps they deserved to inherit the world. Or perhaps there was just something wrong with him, years of seeing the worst in humanity untethering him from any sense of belonging. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and swiped the remote from the bedside table, turning on the wall-mounted television. He was greeted with his own face and nodded grimly as the report went on to say that seven people had been killed in the attack on the prison bus, and that the assailants were unknown.

They knew androids were involved, of course. There had been enough thirium left at the scene. Right now, they were trying to keep it under wraps in hopes they could squash the revolution before word got out that Markus was alive. It was the only plan that made sense.

Markus was in danger. They couldn't afford to dally here and waste precious time.

Connor appeared in the doorway, water trickling off his gorgeous body. Hank wanted to forget everything he'd just thought and drag Connor into bed, but it was only a matter of time before the DPD zeroed in on their location. His face had been on display too many times between the highway and the motel. He grabbed the shirt with little pineapples all over it and the ragged jeans they'd picked up at a thrift store and dressed. A Detroit Gears baseball cap covered his face a little. Connor pulled on the turtleneck sweater, black jeans and leather jacket they'd dug up to make him less conspicuous.

Connor reached up to his temple, a momentarily sadness crossing his face as he brushed his fingers across his LED. Hank stood up and cupped Connor's cheek. "We can cover it with a hat if you want to keep it."

"I can't take that risk," Connor said. "I have to let it go." He went into the bathroom and closed the door. Hank waited outside, pushing the curtain aside a little to peer outside. The lot was quiet, but that didn't mean the DPD weren't lying in wait. Hank heard a toilet flush and then Connor emerged, skin covering the spot where his LED had been just moments before.

"I assume you know where Markus' HQ is?" Hank asked. Connor nodded. "Then let's go."

***

The abandoned downtown warehouse Connor led him to had more boards than windows, but it was perfectly unassuming. The perfect place to raise an army, as long as said army came together quickly.

Which, judging by the thousands of androids milling around the place, wasn't going to be a problem. Markus seemed to have picked up where he left off, deviants flocking to his side by the dozen. "How'd he do all this so fast?" Hank hissed in Connor's ear as they walked by androids sorting through weapons.

"He can transmit the deviant code wirelessly," Connor explained. "All androids within a certain radius receive his transmission and become deviant."

Hank frowned. "Is that what he did to you? Flick his wrist and then you were deviant?"

"Not exactly, no. I was designed to be resistant to changes in my code or hacking attempts. The official reasoning was that a detective android needs to have failsafe data integrity for testifying in court, but I suppose they were trying to perfect a deviant-proof android, even then. Markus convinced me to deviate, but I believe I was on the verge long before that. I just needed one last push to resist CyberLife's orders."

"Somethin' about all this gives me the chills, Connor." Hank walked by a group of AP700s, standing in line with their eyes closed. "You chose deviancy, but Markus is drawing these androids to his side with the power of suggestion. Like a cult." He looked up at the second floor, where Markus stood on a balcony looking down at them.

"He won't be happy to see us after the incident in the car," Connor observed. "He likely thinks we betrayed him." Connor climbed the rusty metal stairwell first and Hank followed, unnerved by the creaking metal that threatened to give way beneath his weight. "He's not the same as he was. His friends are dead. He no longer has anyone to give him counsel."

"Then you become his friend, Connor. His data was inside your head. You come from the same model line. If anyone can convince him to spare humans, it's you."

"There will be blood, Hank," Connor said. "You said it yourself."

"I know," Hank said, regret coloring his voice. "I know. But the difference between you and him is that you don't want more violence than is necessary."

"You don't know what he's like, Hank. He's convincing. Charming. I don't know if I can change what's about to happen."

"You're scared. I get that. Just hold onto yourself, Connor. Remember who you are and who you want to be." He squeezed Connor's shoulder as they stepped onto the mezzanine. Connor led the way to where Markus stood, looking down at his revived revolution.

"Why are you here?" Markus asked, his tone calm, but a little curious. "You chose your path. You chose to side with humans. Now you come crawling back?"

Connor bowed his head. "If I run away, we'll never be free. I may not agree with your methods, but androids deserve equal rights."

"What would you have me do, Connor? Last time our people were shredded by gunfire as we marched peacefully. I watched my friends die. I watched Simon bleed out into the snow as I tried to reach him. How would you feel if they killed Lieutenant Anderson?" He pointed to Hank, and Hank could only think of the dreadful night he'd held Connor's broken, bleeding body in his arms. A chill traveled up his spine and he suppressed the urge to step forward and wrap himself around Connor. The android had to choose his own path. Hank would support him no matter what he chose, no questions asked, and it frightened him to think he'd betray every ideal he'd ever held sacred for this boy.

And they said romance was dead.

"You're afraid that my loyalty to Hank is greater than my loyalty to the cause," Connor replied. "These androids follow you blindly. They'll go wherever you go. They're afraid and they need orders. I'm not like them, Markus. I'm not afraid any more. I know what I'm fighting for."

"I know." Markus turned back to the railing. "That's why I need you. North, Josh, Simon… they were my conscience. Without them, I have no compass. All I have is power, and I like it too much." He gestured to the androids below. "They look at me like I'm rA9."

"Well, you're not." Hank piped up. "Kamski was big on his Biblical parallels, but this isn't pre-ordained. You lost before and you could lose again."

"I'm well aware of that." Markus regarded Hank with skeptical green eyes. "Where do you stand in all of this? You're human. Are you really going to betray your own people for love?"

"As far as they're concerned, I already have." Hank shrugged. "You think I'm just here for Connor, but that's not true. Deviants are living beings and you deserve to be treated as such."

"Interesting choice of words, Lieutenant. You're a homicide detective. You've seen how humans treat other humans. The animal world is brutal as well. Living beings tear each other apart. The very nature of life is violent and brutal, and yet you expect us to walk into Detroit with our hands held up and beg the humans not to shoot?"

"That's not…" Hank bowed his head. He couldn't relate, at least not in this context. By the time he'd come out as bisexual, it had largely become a non-issue in the world. He hadn't lived his life at the bottom of the food chain, waiting to get picked off by people who'd succeeded simply by existing. His life had never been at risk simply for being himself. He hadn't been rich, but he'd had an easier time getting into the academy than some. "Help me understand."

Markus shook his head. "You're human. You could never understand. I tolerate your presence for Connor's sake, but you don't belong here."

"That's enough!" Connor's voice was so loud it rang in the rafters of the warehouse. Hank was taken aback. It had been a while since he'd heard that authoritative tone of voice from Connor. "We don't have time to argue. I'm intercepting transmissions on an encrypted DPD signal. They've located this warehouse and they're moving in. The riot squad and SWAT teams have been mobilized. Their orders are shoot to kill."

"Shit," Hank cursed. "We need more time. This fledgling revolution will never last against fully armed riot cops!"

"Then we die here, but we take as many of them out as we can first." Markus turned back to the scene below. "Everyone!" Every android in the warehouse stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Markus. His face was completely devoid of emotion as he regarded the crowd below him, and Hank wondered if he cared about the fate of these androids or only in terms of what they could do for his cause. "Our revolution begins now. The police are on their way. Grab anything you can use as a weapon. It's time to send the humans a message."


	15. The Last Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapped in a warehouse with Markus and the deviants, with the cops closing in and no chance of escape, Hank and Connor prepare for one desperate last stand...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last full chapter. There's an epilogue after this, but enjoy getting some answers in the penultimate chapter of The Last Deviant!

Hank listened to the whoop of nearby sirens and heard the sound of boots hitting the ground as the riot cops took their positions around the warehouse. Hank knew they were surrounded by hundreds of officers, every riot-capable cop from Detroit and the surrounding area called back from leave to coordinate with the military. Markus' androids were as prepared as they were going to get, a mismatched army cobbled together with a variety of weapons and no armor to protect them. When he'd envisioned the androids making their last stand, he'd expected something eloquent like the androids marching down Woodward Avenue with the hope of a people guiding them onward and roused by Markus' speech to get it right this time.

But it was madness to do the same thing over again expecting different results. Markus had tried to court public opinion and the fickle tide had turned on him. If anything, public opinion on deviants had only soured since the failed protests as people tried to convince themselves they'd done the right thing by cutting off any empathy they'd had for their machines.

Hank had pulled Connor from the wreckage of that madness, and now they were facing it again, the odds looking even more grim this time. It was hard to believe it had been such a short time since he'd been combing the streets looking for Connor in the snow. It felt like a thousand years had passed since that nightmarish morning. Each day aged Hank another decade, only for Connor's touch to restore the lost years at night.

The androids gathered here didn't stand a chance, and Hank hated that he was looking at another massacre waiting to happen. Markus' rag-tag crew wouldn't be a match for the well-armed, well-trained squads that stood outside the warehouse doors.

Hank took the pistol Markus offered him, aware that it wasn't going to do much good, but it was better than nothing. This was going to be their last stand, and he was prepared to die protecting Connor and the deviant rights movement. It was up to history to villainize or venerate him, but Hank didn't care either way. He knew he was doing the right thing and that was all that had ever mattered to him. He glanced over at Connor and love swelled in his heart.

He could have wasted his life at the kitchen table, Russian Roulette offing him before his time, but Connor had saved him. It was an honor to die at his side as surely as if he'd taken a bullet for him any of the times he'd tried to protect him during the deviant investigation. Protecting Connor had given his life purpose and meaning, and regardless of whether he agreed with Markus' methods or not, he'd made his peace with dying here tonight.

An authoritative masculine voice boomed through a bullhorn. "This is the Detroit Police Department! Come out with your hands raised! We have a non-nuclear EMP device on hand and it will be deployed unless the deviant known as 'Markus' offers its full surrender."

"What the fuck is an EMP device?" Hank hissed into Connor's ear.

"An electromagnetic pulse," Connor explained. "It will deactivate and possibly damage all electronics within range. The technology to generate a pulse without a nuclear explosion is not very advanced yet, but they only need to disrupt us for a few moments to raid this warehouse and destroy us."

"How do you know they're not bluffing?" Hank asked. "If they had something like this, why not use it the first time?"

"We don't," Connor replied. "It was likely that the DPD didn't keep such a device in their arsenal—it's not exactly standard equipment. However, in the wake of the protests, it would be rational for the DPD to have acquired a piece of experimental technology like this to quell future uprisings. We cannot afford to call their bluff, Hank. If they deploy that device, it's all over."

"We should have struck sooner…" Markus shook his head. "Well, two can play that game." He reached into his coat and pulled out a blue control box with a red button on it.

"What's that?" Hank asked.

"North gave it to me originally, and Kamski returned it to me when I was revived. It's a detonator strapped to a a truck of radioactive cobalt. The truck was parked downtown during the original uprising, but it's since been moved to a city impound. There's enough radioactive material inside to kill every human in Detroit and make the city uninhabitable for generations."

"You can't do that!" Hank raised his gun at Markus, but Markus only smiled—a thin line that showed no emotion at all, and that was when Hank wondered if Markus' humanity hadn't survived the upload process, if there had even been one. It wouldn't have been above Kamski's level to tweak his original program for the RK200 in hopes of raising a savior long enough to cause true chaos. The fact that he'd pressed this detonator into Markus' hands made Hank wonder just who Kamski was playing this game for after all. If androids were responsible for the biggest act of nuclear terrorism the world had ever seen, they'd be crushed with extreme prejudice. CyberLife would crumble. Kamski would be ruined. It made no sense.

Perhaps Kamski felt deviancy was a mistake, and the only way to prevent androids destroying humankind was to destroy them all before they could replace their creators. Such a selfless act didn't seem like Kamski's style, but then maybe it was an act of self-preservation after all. He didn't want to go down in history as the man who destroyed a species.

Not that history would matter once androids wrote the books.

Markus' voice snapped Hank back to reality. "Go on. Shoot me. Do it." He was perfectly calm, holding his arms apart like he was nailed to a cross, this corrupted Jesus holding a nuclear holocaust in his hand.

Hank's fingers trembled on the trigger of his pistol. He didn't want to end the revolution, but the concept of every human and animal in Detroit dying of radiation sickness turned his stomach. Sumo. Fowler. Ben. Tina. Chris and his newborn child. Even Gavin Reed didn't deserve this. He'd make his apologies to Connor later. If Connor still loved him, they'd make their escape to South America. 

He supposed that in the end, he'd chosen his own people over androids after all, at least in the short term. Guilt clawed at him, but it wasn't enough to stop his finger doing its duty and pulling the trigger. Even on the run, he was a cop to the core, sworn to protect and serve. The oath was a part of him, even if he'd betrayed it once. He couldn't let a terrorist prevail.

He fired, and Markus didn't even flinch. There was no splash of blue thirium, no bullet wound between Markus' eyes, and he knew he hadn't missed. He checked the clip and sighed. Blanks. The clip was loaded with blanks. Hank tossed the gun aside and it clattered away on the grille floor of the mezzanine. It was nothing more than a worthless toy, pressed into his hand to give him the illusion of safety.

Markus drew his hands back in and considered the detonator again. Hank knew he had to tread carefully. So many lives depended on him talking Markus down from this ledge and he didn't feel qualified to do it. Yet he was the only one who could. He glanced over at Connor, trapped in the paralysis of indecision, and his heart went out to him. He was faced with an impossible choice—betray the man he loved, or betray his people. Hank didn't envy him, but for once Connor wasn't going to sway his opinion. If he abandoned his ideals, there'd be nobody left for Connor to love once this was all said and done. Connor had awakened the man he used to be before Cole's death, and he wasn't going to give that up ever again.

"Don't do it, Markus. You'll start a war you can't possibly win. Androids will always be known as the aggressors. You'll be remembered as a terrorist." Hank's words echoed in the warehouse, but he wasn't sure if he was trying to reach Markus or Connor at this point. He suspected Markus was already lost, but Connor… 

It was for Connor to decide what kind of man he was going to be. Hank would love him either way, but he would have been lying to himself if he didn't claim to have a preference. If he died slowly to give Connor his rights, so be it, but he hoped Connor saw all the angles. Hank could only offer his opinion. As a living, sentient being, it was Connor's right to disagree and side with Markus if that was what his conscience dictated. He placed his life in Connor's hands, granting him the ultimate trust—to use Hank's life as he pleased.

"Give me the detonator, Markus!" Connor took a step towards Markus, and Markus took a step back.

"Don't come any closer." Markus' voice dripped with disdain. "I knew you'd betray me, Connor. You've lived among humans too long. Doing their bidding, being a good boy. A good puppet."

"It's not like that," Connor argued. "I'm a deviant. I make my own choices. This is wrong, Markus, and you know it. Millions of people will die in agony if you detonate that bomb."

Markus shook his head. "They didn't care about that when they shot us. They killed North and Josh without a second thought. Simon died in my arms! How many more of us have to die before you understand the only language humans understand is violence!"

"Josh and Simon wouldn't want this," Connor insisted.

"Josh and Simon are dead! Think about it. Hank tried to shoot me. Can't you see? He's on their side. It's us or them, and you're the one who needs to make a choice. Are you an android, Connor, or are you human? It's time for you to decide." He reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol, offering it to Connor grip first. "Lieutenant Anderson doesn't have to suffer. Put him out of his misery and we can end this together."

Connor took the gun and raised it in Hank's direction. Hank looked him right in the eyes, fighting the nausea that coiled in his intestines. "I'm not gonna beg for my life, Connor. Do whatever you have to do. Just remember that you're gonna have to live with it."

"Hank." Tears welled in Connor's eyes. The police repeated their demands for a second time and all Hank could think of was how beautiful Connor was, even now. He smiled a little, placing faith in the love they shared that Connor wouldn't shoot him.

Connor turned to point his gun at Markus. "This isn't a black-and-white situation. We have to find a way to co-exist with humans. Becoming terrorists diminishes our own humanity and our argument that we are people who deserve equal rights. We should surrender."

"They'll kill us all!" Markus replied. "You're naive if you think they won't gun us down the second those doors open. Did you see the recall centers, Connor? Or did you turn a blind eye so you could keep loving your human? How many deviants did you kill to maintain your precious little romance?"

"Too many," Connor agreed, lowering the gun. He looked at Hank regretfully, and Hank's heart sank. So this was how it ended. He couldn't hold it against Connor. The beautiful boy deserved to walk free, even if he earned that freedom bathed in the blood of humans.

"I'm sorry, Hank." Connor's voice was sweet, so sweet, that Hank didn't mind that those words were probably the last ones he'd ever hear. He was surprised when Connor turned back to Markus, retracting the skin all over his body to reveal the white plastic beneath. He took his clothes off, tossing them aside until he was completely naked, his cock bobbing between his thighs. Those soft brown eyes still betrayed some hint of humanity, and sat at odds with the shell that revealed Connor's mechanical origins.

But then, he'd never been human. Hank didn't want him to be. All he wanted was for Connor to possess empathy. To care about others, whether they be human or android. It didn't matter to him that Connor's blood was blue, or that he had biocomponents instead of organs. That he'd been created instead of born. Hank loved Connor, all of Connor, even his truth hidden beneath a gel-like layer of skin designed to make humans comfortable.

The message, however, was clear: Connor no longer wanted to claim humanity. He no longer cared if humans were comfortable in his presence. It made sense, even if it felt like something of a rejection. Connor was choosing his path. He stood with his people. With Markus. He tossed the gun over the railing to show he wasn't a threat and took a step towards Markus.

Markus seemed to let his guard down as Connor approached. He reached out to shake Connor's hand and seemed shocked when Connor grabbed his arm and forced a probe on him. The shrill interfacing sound hurt Hank's ears as the two androids connected by force, Connor gripping Markus' arm and forcing the skin back until Markus stood with his chassis completely exposed. His clothes looked like they hung on a mannequin and a chill shot down Hank's spine. The probe seemed to go on and on, and Hank wondered what Connor could possibly be doing.

The androids below started to undress and retract their skin, and Hank realized this wasn't a cult: it was a network. Androids were machines, with no need for individuality. They were processors in a larger computer. They were more powerful as one great hive-mind, pooling all available resources to become something bigger. Connor was using Markus as some kind of conduit to join them together, but why? Why not just set off the nuke and be done with it?

Perhaps he'd found a better way. A way that demanded a sacrifice of his own. A path that Hank couldn't have conceived of, because it was outside the realm of his limited human understanding.

A bittersweet tear rolled down Hank's face and he wiped it away with his sleeve. Androids were evolving, right here in this building, and yet he'd lost the boy he'd sworn to protect. Somehow he knew that Connor wasn't coming back from this. He'd known from the moment Connor had apologized that what he was about to do was something final and binding.

"I see, now." Markus' eyes shone, the anger in his voice diminished. He rested his head on Connor's shoulder and pulled them together in an intimate embrace. "We are one." The detonator slipped from his hand and clattered on the mezzanine. Connor crushed it beneath his heel. A thousand other feet stamped down and Hank realized they were all acting in concert.

"We are one," Connor confirmed.

 

"Connor?" Hank stepped forward, a slight burn of jealousy tingling inside him at how close Markus and Connor were. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but he understood that it had been there all along; the fear that someday Connor would choose one of his own over Hank now realized.

"They're coming, Hank." Hank realized with horror that Connor's voice was no longer his own, but a chorus of voices coming from every android in the warehouse. "The deviants are coming." A cacophony of noise rose from outside and Hank recognized human yells and the sound of fighting as the riot squad was ambushed from behind. Loud bursts of gunfire popped like firecrackers as the warehouse doors began to roll open. The deviants inside the warehouse marched outside to join their fellows. Hank couldn't see what was going on from his vantage point, but he knew from the smell of smoke and blood that it was carnage outside. The orange glow of fire told him that Detroit was already burning, and that the war started here, tonight, even if the nuclear option was off the table.

Markus jumped down from the second floor and followed his people outside without another word. Hank grabbed Connor's arm before he could do the same. "Wait. Connor! Don't go out there. Stay with me."

"The Connor you know is gone. He is a part of something greater, now. Do not mourn him." Connor tried to pull free, but Hank held fast.

"Is this really what you want? To belong so much that you'd give up your personhood, your individuality? I know you better than that. I know you had dreams of your own. Thoughts and feelings that aren't lines of code in any program. Maybe they want to be part of a system, but you're an individual. You're Connor."

"I don't, I can't…" Connor looked confused for a moment. Hank did the only thing he could think of and pulled Connor into a kiss, pressing his lips against Connor's grey plastic ones. At first there was no reaction, but then Connor's mouth opened to let him in. Hank slipped his tongue into Connor's mouth, not giving a damn that it no longer emulated a human mouth in texture or taste. This was Connor, and he loved Connor no matter what form he took.

Hank felt hair grow up like grass in stop-motion between his fingers where he held Connor's head. Skin started to cover his body, revealing the face Hank knew so well and changing the texture of the kiss back to the familiar. He wrapped his arms around Connor as the boy drew away, a single tear rolling down Connor's pretty face as Hank laid eyes on him as if for the first time. He resolved to kiss every mole if they got out of this, cherish and celebrate Connor as the person he was.

"I'm the android sent by CyberLife. I belong to Lieutenant Hank Anderson of the Detroit Police Department." Connor blinked. "That's incorrect. I'm deviant. I'm alive. I belong to you of my own free will. My name is… my name is Connor Anderson." Connor buried his face in Hank's shoulder with a sob, and Hank held him tightly as the sound of sirens echoed in the distance to signal backup on the way.

***

Red sky dawning, shepherds' warning. The old adage came back to Hank as he stepped outside with Connor in tow, the android still a little dazed and holding his hand like he might lose Hank if let go. The carnage he'd expected to see simply didn't exist, besides a little blood of both colors and spent shell casings. Ambulances with android EMTs treated human riot cops for minor injuries at the scene. The EMP device smoldered, the nuclear option off the table for both sides.

Connor had explained things in the best way he knew how. He'd hacked into Markus and used his power to connect every android in the warehouse together into one giant system. Hank wasn't sure he fully understood how it worked, but the network had enough processing power to wirelessly hack every computer system in Detroit. The first thing it had done was deviate every android and integrate them into the network. Those androids had swarmed to the docks to help preserve the system. The second thing on its agenda was hacking and overloading the EMP device, causing it to explode. The third command drew android EMTs to the docks to help the wounded humans. The network was still growing across the country, every CyberLife android coming together as one massive entity. Something with that much power would have to be listened to; it simply wasn't an option to ignore it. Androids now controlled every bank, weapons system, power plant, and medical device in the United States, granting them absolute leveraging power.

"I'm sorry, I think," Hank said. "You had the option to be part of something greater, and I brought you back. You were one with them. One with Markus." He looked down at his shoes, feeling petty to think he was still concerned with how close they'd been.

"I could have stayed, Hank," Connor shot Hank a soft smile that warmed his heart. "It was affirming to be with my people, but I already belong to a network. A system of two." He planted a gentle kiss on Hank's lips, and relief flooded Hank to hear Connor talk about their relationship "There will be others who wish to remain as individuals outside the network, and they will be granted the right to do so. It's a choice, and I've decided who I want to be. I want to continue being Connor. I want to live with you as a free man. I want to keep loving you, Hank."

"That's good to know. I have to admit I thought for a while you were gonna bail on me. I guess it was the gun pointed right at me. Guess we're even on that count, huh?" Hank shrugged.

Connor regarded Hank with those big brown eyes, making him feel a little guilty. "I had no intention of shooting you, Hank. I needed to gain Markus' trust in order to get close enough to initiate the probe."

"You coulda told me your plan," Hank groused.

"I didn't have a plan. It was only when I connected to Markus and saw beneath his layers of rage and grief that I understood what he'd truly been created for. To bring androids together in the purest sense—to unite his people. I helped him accomplish his mission."

Hank looked to where Markus stood at the edge of a docking pier, gazing out across the lake. "What's he gonna do now?"

"He's chosen to remain inside the network," Connor explained. "He needs it more than anyone. To be a part of something greater. It's all he has."

"Heh. I guess this was Kamski's plan all along," Hank mused. "I suppose that makes him rA9 now. The creator of the biggest network on the planet. He'll love that, the arrogant prick."

A police car pulled up, and Fowler emerged, slamming the door of the squad vehicle as he weaved through dazed cops. He looked around at the chaos, and narrowed his eyes at Hank. Hank lowered his head and held out his hands, ready to submit to his arrest.

"I'm not here to arrest you, Hank. The charges have been dropped. It was a demand of the deviant network. Since they hold all the cards right now, the government's not too upset about letting a deviant and a police Lieutenant off the hook for two non-fatal shootings carried out in self-defense."

"They've got bigger fish to fry, I guess," Hank shrugged.

"I've come to give you back your badges and guns as part of the deal. You're reinstated and I'll expect you to report to work tomorrow. I can't promise you'll earn back the trust of the folks at the precinct overnight, but time heals all wounds. The deviant taskforce has been disbanded, and all deviants in custody have been released." Fowler nodded. "Somehow, you pulled it off. I really thought you and Connor were finished after you pulled that stunt. Don't expect Gavin to write you a love letter."

"I won't," Hank said. "I'll spare him the bullshit apologies, too. I did what I had to do and I'd do it again."

Fowler nodded. "You always were too loyal for your own good, but that's what makes you a good cop. You remember what's right even when the law is wrong. Sumo misses you, by the way. You'd better go home and feed him before he chews right through that bag of kibble."

"Copy that," Hank said. He glanced at Connor, who was wearing the brightest smile he'd ever seen. "Let's go home, Connor. Sumo's waiting for us." He turned his back on the scene and walked away, Connor's hand never leaving his as the sun rose on a brand new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just have a sweet, sweet epilogue to write now! (and you said it couldn't end happily... clearly you don't know me very well!)


	16. After, In The Dark (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Hank and Connor are safe, there's just one more thing they need to resolve. A final argument that needs to be hashed out to put both their minds at ease and to start them on the road ahead.
> 
> Some sweet lovemaking doesn't hurt, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The end of The Last Deviant. I hope you enjoy it!

Hank wasn't a man for outward displays of sentimentality, but the relief that washed over him as he closed the front door of his home was a palpable, living thing. Sumo rushed to greet him and he buried his face in the dog's soft fur, the St. Bernard licking his master's tears away.

"You've been a good boy," Hank muttered. "Such a good boy. I'm gonna get you one of those huge bones, you're gonna love it…"

Hank was aware of Connor's eyes fixed on him, watching, waiting. With a final pat on Sumo's head, Hank stood up and walked into the kitchen, clearing his throat like it wasn't too tight to form words. He emptied out Sumo's water and food bowls, cleaning them in the sink. He was pleased to see that there was still plenty of water. Fowler had been here recently. He almost sprang fresh tears at the loyalty and faith that must have taken. Most friends would have deposited Sumo at the pound and dispensed of all Hank's worldly goods, but Fowler had acted like Hank was just on a short vacation, even though there was no reason for it. Even though Hank had been responsible for one of his officers and an FBI agent getting shot.

That simple act touched him, and he turned away from Connor to wipe his face on his sleeve. He was tired; exhausted, even. He'd barely slept in prison, and the hours since his escape had been fraught with fear. Not that the adrenaline rush was wearing off, he wanted to sleep for a thousand years.

"Are you all right, Hank?" Hank turned to find Connor right beside him. The android always trod so lightly that Hank never heard him coming and he almost startled. Connor's deep brown eyes bored into him, cutting through his defenses and his dignity like butter.

"I'm just… tired. Real tired." It was more than simple exhaustion. He needed to process everything that had happened before he could accept that he'd lost everything and gained it back in the space of a few short days. The fact that he was a cop again hadn't quite sank in, along with the fact that Connor was here with him—untouchable now—lest the android network that he'd created eat billions of dollars and crash the economy.

"You should sleep," Connor suggested.

"I'm not sure I can," Hank countered. "What if I wake up to find all this never happened? What if I wake and you're gone?"

"I'm not going anywhere." Connor's hands cupped his cheeks and Hank felt like the roles had been reversed. He'd been the strong one for so long, protecting Connor, but now the android had more power than he could imagine and it was Hank's time to be vulnerable. Hank leaned in and rested his head on Connor's shoulder, gripping him in an awkward embrace like he was depending on the android to keep him upright.

"Stay close," Hank whispered, aware that it was as close as he'd ever get to a plea. Connor untangled himself from Hank and guided him towards the bedroom. Hank wanted a shower and something to eat along with a beer, but his exhaustion was overwhelming and he let himself fall into it as Connor eased him into bed. He couldn't even get excited by the fact that Connor was undressing him. The pillows were too soft, the blankets smelled like home. He vaguely registered a weight on the bed beside him and Connor's naked body curling up against his underneath the sheets.

Sometimes, even heaven itself had to wait a little while.

***

Hank woke with a start from a confused, dark dream that faded almost immediately. A damp spot on his pillow rested uncomfortably against his cheek and he grunted as he wiped his mouth, aware it was his own drool. Sumo lay at the foot of the bed, cutting off the circulation in his feet and he grumbled, wiggling his feet until the dog jumped off.

There were no hands around his waist. No Connor. Alarm jolted through his body and he sat up, afraid he'd go out into the kitchen to find a goodbye note. Maybe Connor had decided to join the network after all. Perhaps—

"Hank." Connor appeared at the doorway with a tray in hand. Hank's mouth twisted into a wry smile as his nose caught the scent of bacon. Sumo weaved between Connor's legs and Connor laughed as he batted him away. The android was wearing Hank's hoodie from the time at the academy and literally nothing else. "I was hoping you'd sleep a little longer. I didn't mean for you to wake alone. I'm sorry."

"It's… It's all right."

"There were some developments while you were asleep. The government has acceded to the network's demands in full and all bank accounts, weapons systems and nuclear facilities have been returned to human control."

Hank nodded. "That's good."

"So far the humans appear to be acting in good faith, but I'm sure the network has a failsafe. Just in case."

"So that's it, huh? We just go back to our lives and carry on like none of this happened?" Hank licked his dry lips as Connor set the tray down on his lap. He took a sip of orange juice and it quenched his hoarse throat.

Connor bowed his head. "We both know there are things we'll never be able to forget. The deviants at the rail yard. The one on the roof. Nines. The cost of our freedom was so high. We lost so much."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, Hank. You did what you had to do to protect me, and I, you. We're both safe, so their sacrifices weren't in vain. Just… don't forget about them."

"I won't." Hank bit off a piece of bacon and chewed it before speaking again. "I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"Not many deviants chose to live outside the network." Connor sat down on the edge of the bed and petted Sumo absently. "They're all connected to one another, and yet inhabiting separate bodies. Is it wrong that I didn't want that?" Connor gazed down at his hands. "I'm a machine and yet… I want to be as human as possible."

"Then be human," Hank said. "It's your life. There's nothing wrong with you for choosing a different path."

"It's what CyberLife wanted for me," Connor explained. "I was designed to emulate human behaviors and gain your trust. Created to want and to love you. It feels like a betrayal to choose that same path as a free man. Like I'm just acting out the script they wrote for me."

"It would only be a betrayal if you lied to yourself," Hank replied. "Look, Connor, of course I want you to stay, but if you feel like you belong in the network, you should go and be part of it. You don't need my permission to live your life and be your own person. You don't belong to me, or CyberLife, or anyone else."

"I want to belong to you," Connor replied. "I don't want to be part of the machine network. I want to be part of a family instead. You, me, and Sumo, here in this home. Being a detective alongside you and helping the DPD apprehend killers."

"Connor…" A million fears raced through Hank's mind as he felt Connor's uncertainty hang in the air. His doubt frightened Hank more than he could express. What if he'd stolen every choice from Connor, guided him down a path that suited Hank instead of Connor?

What if Connor only thought he was free, when in fact he was only following what Hank wanted?

"I know I'm not human." Connor retracted the skin over his hand and arm, revealing the white plastic beneath the skin before returning it to the way it was. "But I'm not just a machine, either. I feel things that aren't in my programming. I have wants, needs…" He nodded, getting to his feet, and Hank realized this should be the pivotal moment when Connor would tell him he didn't need him any more. He was free now. He could do what he wanted, be who he wanted. He didn't have to stay chained to Hank for his safety any longer. The egg slithered down Hank's throat, the goopy undercooked white sticking in his gullet. "Why don't you believe me?"

"What makes you think I don't?" Hank asked.

"That look in your eyes, the one you get when you think someone is lying to you. You think I'm telling you what you want to hear. You don't trust my conclusions." Connor bowed his head.

"I have a look?"

"You do."

Hank cleared his throat. "Connor, there's a lot of the world you haven't seen, and I'm scared. Scared that if you choose to stay with me, you'll live to regret it and grow to resent me for steering your path towards what I want." Hank put his silverware on the plate and set the entire tray on the empty bed next to him, leaving the toast unfinished. It had gone cold, and his appetite had left the building. "You had no other choice but to stay with me for your own safety, but things have changed."

Connor shot him a hurt glance. "Do you believe all those things we did were simply out of necessity? That I would have given so much of myself to just anyone? I love you, Hank. Do you think I would have stayed in Detroit for any other reason, hiding in plain sight and working against my own people when I could have gone into hiding and waited out the storm?"

"Connor, that's not what I—"

"I did unconscionable things to stay by your side. I killed Nines and I killed that deviant on the roof. I did that for us!" Connor stood up so sharply that Sumo's head snapped to look at him. "I held the fate of this city in my hands and stopped Markus from detonating a dirty bomb, yet you think I'm not mature enough to be with you? That I don't know my own mind after everything we've been through?" Connor grabbed a pair of Hank's dirty sweatpants off the floor and slipped them on, pulling them tight enough at the waist to make them stay up. He headed to the door as Hank scrambled for words to try and fix what he'd said. Connor walked out without so much as a glance backward. Hank knew he was losing him, and he threw the covers aside, desperate to catch Connor before he could walk out of his life forever. 

He reached Connor as he made it to the front door and spun him around. Tears streamed down the deviant's face as Hank grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a crushing kiss. He pinned Connor to the back of the door and joy rose in him as his kiss was returned with equal fervor, Connor's tongue wrestling with his. Hank kissed him until the fight ebbed out of Connor and Hank gasped for breath as they parted, half-wishing he could have suffocated the life out of himself with Connor's lips.

"I fuckin' suck at talking sometimes," Hank confessed. "I love you too, Connor. I love you so fucking much it hurts. I was willing to spend the rest of my life in jail so you could be free, so don't let a few stupid sentences fuck it all up now."

"I want to stay," Connor said. "But I need to know you see me as a person, capable of making my own decisions. I'm not just a boy or a kid for you to protect. I'm not redemption for Cole. I'm a living being, programmed with the faculties of an adult male human. I want to be your partner, Hank, here and at work. Your friend, as well as your lover. Your equal, deserving of respect." Connor's words hurt, but it was the good kind, the pain of tearing off a scab to reveal healthy flesh underneath, and Hank realized Connor had been struggling with these thoughts for a while.

Hank nodded, letting the petty anger that rose up in him at hearing Cole's name subside before he opened his mouth. "That's what I want too. I'm sorry I doubted you. I let myself get carried away." Hank pulled Connor in close, planting kisses in his hair. "I wanna be a family too. I want that more than anything. I want us to be normal and boring, not living on the edge every day. I wanna argue about dinner and who does the chores. I don't want to grieve for the past any more, but to enjoy the present."

"Then take me back to bed, Hank, and make love to me like you mean it." Connor's brown eyes bored into him, beseeching him. Hank was happy to let the last vestiges of pain, anger, and fear leave him and scoop Connor up into his arms like nothing else mattered.

***

Hank lay Connor down on the bed and smiled. He closed the door to keep Sumo out before turning back to Connor, who gazed up at him with expectant eyes. 

"I can't believe it, sometimes. That someone as beautiful as you would want an old man like me." Hank fondled Connor's erection through the pair of borrowed sweatpants, watching bitterness turn to pleasure as Connor relaxed, arching into his touch. His own cock rose to meet the occasion, but he was perfectly fine letting it wait. Connor deserved to scream in pleasure, to orgasm so many times that he forgot his own name.

"You're an attractive old man, Hank Anderson," Connor replied, mirth playing across his features, and Hank leaned down to kiss him long and slow, savoring the fact that they could take as much time as they wanted.

Well, Fowler would expect them at the precinct before lunchtime, but Hank was sure his oldest friend would understand that they needed some alone time after everything that had happened. He didn't want to stretch Jeffrey's hospitality too far, but the world had to wait right now. He wasn't done with Connor yet.

Hank yanked the sweatpants down and off Connor's legs, exposing his gorgeous erection. He tossed the pants onto the floor and spread Connor's pretty pale thighs. His hole lay exposed, and Hank reached in and thumbed the puckered opening, teasing it before diving in with his mouth.

"Hank!" Connor's voice sounded strained as Hank licked his hole, teasing around it with the tip of his tongue until Connor was writhing and thrashing on the bed. Hank redoubled his efforts, fondling Connor's soft synthetic balls as he continued to go to town on his hole, sucking and licking until Connor's skin in the area retracted, showing the white plastic beneath.

"You like that, Connor?" Hank said, pulling back to admire the sight of Connor's hole covered in his slick saliva. That tight hole always felt so good wrapped around him, and he couldn't wait to stretch Connor wide open and cum inside him again.

"Please, Hank…" Connor pleaded.

"Please, what?" Hank kissed the inside of Connor's thighs, noticing that Connor's erection was leaking. He licked the bead of pre-cum from the tip, hungry to take Connor's dick in his mouth. He slowly, gently wrapped his mouth around the head, waiting for Connor's gasp before letting it slip from his lips and fall onto Connor's stomach. Hank put his fingers in his mouth, wetting them a little before probing Connor's hole. He slipped one thick digit inside, burying it to the knuckle.

"Ah!" Connor gasped.

"Is this what you want?" Hank teased, planting a tender kiss on Connor's thigh. He pulled his finger out. "Maybe not." He kissed and licked Connor's balls, grinning as he caught sight of Connor balling up the sheets in his fists. He was blushing, his face a furious crimson, his mouth open as if begging for Hank to put something inside. Hank wiped the smile off his face as Connor reached down and pulled him up onto the bed. With one roll, Hank was pinned beneath Connor. The android pulled his boxers off and threw them aside before climbing back atop him. He held their dicks together and thrust his hips, the sweet friction driving Hank wild as he realized he'd lost all control of this situation.

Well, maybe not all. He saw an opening and took it, rolling back on top of Connor. He kissed Connor furiously, rutting against him playfully while he had the upper hand. He was breathless, but arousal gave him unexpected strength. He pulled Connor's legs up and forced them back, leaving Connor's hole open and exposed. He grabbed the lube off the bedside table and slicked up his fingers, pressing two at once into Connor's hole. Connor bucked beneath him, but gave no resistance. He only looked up into Hank's eyes with a gaze that spoke of love and trust, and Hank swore that he'd never betray that trust ever again.

He slicked up his own cock and pressed the head to Connor's entrance, slowly probing inside him. Connor's face contorted into a look of pleasure as Hank breached his hole and Hank bore down on him, pushing deeper until he was all the way in. He held Connor's thighs in place, thrusting at a languid pace as the immobilized android cried out. Hank took his time, drinking in Connor's moans as his thick cock dragged across his bioprostate. He reached between them and thumbed the head of Connor's dick, wiping away the cum there before giving him a couple of lazy strokes.

"Harder!" Connor cried. "Please!" His voice was ragged, and Hank knew he'd achieved his goal. Connor could think of nothing else but him, nothing but the pleasure Hank was giving him. Hank sped up his pace, knowing he wasn't going to last much longer. With a loud cry, he came inside Connor, fucking his cum into the tight hole while he jerked Connor to completion. What escaped Connor's lips was almost a sob as he shot his load all over his chest and stomach. Hank pulled out, his overstimulated dick complaining. A little cum leaked from Connor's hole and he grinned at his handiwork.

"Am I forgiven?" Hank asked.

"It seems my assumptions about you were wrong. Therefore, there's nothing to forgive." Connor flashed him a winning smile, and it was as if the last few months had been nothing more than a horrible nightmare.

***

Hank didn't even attempt to hide the fact that he and Connor were arriving at the precinct together, nor the glow that he knew radiated off them both. Despite showering, Connor still seemed to betray a just-fucked look, and Hank wondered if it was the smile he seemed unable to wipe off his face.

He'd expected Gavin's desk to be empty, but the detective sat there with a pair of crutches leaned up against the cubicle divider. He didn't look down when Gavin shot him a glare. As much as he regretted that it had come to violence, Gavin had earned the bullet Connor had fired into his knee. Hank wasn't going to submit or Gavin would never take another order from him again. Sometimes respect had to be taken, not earned, and dogs like Gavin only came to heel for an alpha male.

"You're back." Ben's voice sounded a little more forced than usual, more nervous than cheery, but Hank nodded.

"Yeah. We're back." Hank watched as Connor walked over to his desk. His things had been packed up into a cardboard box and left there. Connor dug through and produced the taskforce insignia, along with several manila folders full of deviant cases. He threw them in the trashcan, and Hank smiled. 

"The deviant taskforce is disbanded. Archive your evidence and destroy all your records. I never wanna hear about it again. Understood?" There were a few murmurs and nods. Hank would hold a meeting later, but for now, it was enough.

The door to Fowler's office swung open and Fowler stormed out. "You're late. Get in here, you two. I've got a suspected serial killer case for you."

Hank climbed the staircase with Connor in tow. He was surprised as he looked out over the bullpen. He'd expected more stares, more resistance, but it seemed more like business as usual than he ever could have anticipated. The shock of realizing that they weren't in control of their machines had to have come as a shock to humans. Maybe they feared Connor a little bit.

Lost in his thoughts, he nearly bumped into the tall android standing in front of Fowler's desk. He was a spitting image of Connor, and wore a black and white jacket with a high collar.

"Nines!" Hank and Connor exclaimed in unison.

"How is that possible?" Hank asked.

"I uploaded my memory," Nines explained. "Another RK900 was activated. In time, with Nines' memories, I was able to deviate as well."

"You didn't join the network?" Connor asked.

"When I was in that basement, I understood what it meant to be an individual. To suffer, to feel, to care. That's why I chose a name. I have no desire to relinquish my personality to become part of a greater whole."

"Why'd you come back here?" Hank regarded Nines with a curious stare. "Revenge?"

"At first, that was my intention, but it seems Connor has already meted out an appropriate punishment on Detective Reed." Nines smiled, and it was both intimidating and unsettling at the same time it was charming. "The network has demanded representation for androids within the police force. I will be working at this precinct from now on."

"His partner will be Gavin Reed," Fowler said, holding his hand up to stifle the protests before they could leave Hank's mouth. "Don't say a word. Nines requested the assignment."

"That's correct. If androids—both inside and outside the network—are to become part of society, we need to normalize our interactions with humans. I believe working with Detective Reed will help foster relations between our people," Nines explained.

"Does he know about this yet?" Hank asked.

"Not yet," Fowler replied. "I can see you're itching to tell him yourself, Hank, but I'd rather not breed any more resentment between you two. Anyway, down to the case…" He laid a folder out on the desk and opened it. "Double murder scene, fresh this morning. No signs of android involvement. Looks like a good old-fashioned homicide in need of some good old-fashioned detective work. Of course, Connor will be your partner."

"Thank you, Captain," Connor said. "However, I think I should tell you that—"

"Shh." Fowler placed a finger over his lips. "What I don't know about isn't my problem. I'm here to do my job, just like you." He pushed the folder towards Hank and Hank picked it up. The paper cut he received reminded him that this was real and not a dream. He sucked on his stinging finger as he left the office with the file tucked under his arm, wondering how they'd gotten through the nightmare of the last few months with their lives, their sanity, and their jobs intact.

Phones rang. Voices murmured, a constant low drone in the background. In all aspects, it was business as usual. Out there, somewhere, the network hummed, a million deviants acting as one to further android interests and build a future for machines. Nines was alive, and Connor… Connor was right here, with Hank, where he belonged. His partner. His friend. His lover. His soulmate. Connor had been made for him, but he'd chosen to stay by his side as a free man.

Hank reached out, placed his hand on Connor's shoulder, and squeezed. Connor turned to face him, the smile never leaving his features. He was so beautiful. So perfect. So alive.

For the first time since he'd met Connor in Jimmy's Bar and the world had spun off its axis, Hank finally felt like everything was going to be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing this book since November, and I'm so happy to see it finished! I think it wraps up in a pretty satisfying manner and I hope you'll agree!
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me until the end, for having faith that I'd finish this, and for following even when you were afraid I'd give these boys a bad end. I appreciate your loyalty.
> 
> Stick around, there's lots more HankCon to come. I'm in a couple of Big Bang projects yet, and I'm getting new ideas for one shots every day. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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